Butterflies: In Spring
by Shattered Midnight Dreams
Summary: This was worse than those daytime soap operas Eriol taped then pretended not to cry over. SxS [Second arc of Butterflies, read that first]
1. Adjustments

_The insane musings of the authoress: _I really, really hate you people. No, really. Really really really really really really (okay, I think you get the idea).

When I said give me titles, I didn't say give me titles so good that I was going to end up agonising over which one to choose!

God, I should have known this was going to be a bad idea! I really couldn't decide what to go for. Absolutely none of the titles were bad, so I couldn't immediately rule out _any _of them. (Which was just great /sarcasm )

But then I narrowed it down to these:

Yuri Sawamura's suggestion - Butterflies: Learning To Fly

Abombidal Boo's suggestion – Butterflies: Falling

LynnMinmay's suggestion – Butterflies: Sojourn

And Ciuline Ihmenjo's suggestion – Butterflies In Spring

(Although, a special mention has to go to T's suggestion – 'Butterflies: And Now For The Angsty, Sad Part' which made me laugh so hard. You have no idea how hard I had to resist using it! And I couldn't really use it because although it was extremely funny (in my opinion) it wouldn't really have fit. Sadly.)

So I looked over the four main contenders and thought and thought, then called Lily over to see them, and she thought and thought, and we both thought and thought, and then there were two:

Butterflies: Sojourn

And

Butterflies In Spring

And then we got stuck. The reason I'm so iffy is because I want 'Butterflies: Sojourn' because I like the word and it's a very creative title, but I also want 'Butterflies In Spring' because it's pretty and actually _will _tie in with the last chapter.

Then I considered a meld of the two, but I couldn't make it work. For example, the best I could do was – 'Butterflies: Sojourn In Spring', which meant we completely lost the meaning of both titles. Other possibilities, such as 'Butterflies: Spring Sojourn' don't really work either.

So I agonised and I agonised… Then I chickened out and decided to put up the first part of the second arc with a temporary title so I could have some more thinking time. (Cue me laughing sheepishly and nervously).

Another thing I could do would be to put something about a 'sojourn' in the summary and use the 'In Spring' title, but I really don't know… (sigh)

For now, just let me work with the temporary title.

_Butterflies: The Temporarily Untitled Second Arc_

_Chapter One_

_Adjustments_

Even after a week, living in the new house still felt very like living in a hotel to Sakura. She and Syaoran may have been living out of cardboard boxes as opposed to suitcases, but it was all much the same - the feeling that the space in which you slept was not your own and things like that.

Although, unlike when she was in a hotel, Sakura did not have the comfort of being able to think to herself 'it's only temporary, I'll be back in my own, old, familiar bed soon. I'll be back home soon.'

Because now, this was home, and the thought was vaguely unsettling. She missed stupid things – running around the house with Tomoyo in a panic in the mornings if they were running late, laughing over having to eat wholly unsuitable breakfasts because they had forgotten to do the shopping that week, borrowing pairs of tights and discussing E.R. over popcorn in their pajamas at night – things like that.

The sort of things that she would never have thought she'd miss – the everyday, mundane things.

Although, she had to admit that those sorts of things were slowly being replaced by other, definitely nice things – she missed going down to breakfast in the morning and seeing Tomoyo at the table, but she instead now got to see a rumpled, flushed and sleepy-looking Syaoran who always smiled at her over his cup of black coffee (the spit-it-out disgusting flavour of which he claimed startled him into waking up).

She had traded the many thoughtful little things that Tomoyo liked to do for a shy offering to cook dinner from Syaoran (which was very welcome in a week where Sakura had either joined Syaoran in some takeout, picked something up on her way home from work or eaten comfort food like ridiculous amounts of chocolate for dinner).

And she'd swapped nights watching E.R. in pajamas for an evening of helping Syaoran to prepare said dinner, then eating it off their laps and watching a movie in their sparsely-furnished living room.

So it wasn't that the changes were particularly awful, Sakura supposed that the changeover was just difficult.

That first week passed in a blur of trying to settle into a new way of life – Sakura and Syaoran looked at endless samples of carpet, colors of paint, couches and various other new things that they had to get for their home.

Also, the day came when they had to return to work after a very, very long absence…

…

"Yes, yes, Yuri-san, is that you?" Ueda massaged his forehead as he spoke down the phone to his secretary. His desk was filled with reports, but he couldn't concentrate for worrying.

"Yes, boss! What can I do for you?" she responded cheerily.

"K-kinomoto-san and Li-san," he said hesitantly. "Have you heard any –"

"Not since the last time you checked," Yuri interrupted in a voice soft and gentle with concern. Ueda sighed.

"Very well then, Yuri-san," Ueda said, and made to say a hurried 'goodbye' and put down the phone, when he heard a panicked, insistent "wait!" from the other end.

"Yes?" he asked calmly. There was a hesitation from the secretary.

"Ueda-san, I know it's not my place to say such things, but I really would like to tell you to try to not think about Kinomoto-san and Li-san's disappearance," she began, twisting the phone cord through her fingers as she spoke.

"I can't help it, Yuri-san," Ueda said instantly, a little defensively, "I mean, nobody knows what happened and where they are. They could be missing, for all we know – I haven't seen them since they left for their convention."

"Boss, did you ever consider that everything might be fine?" Yuri asked, voice still soft. She paused, then suggested in a voice so timid that it almost wasn't there at all, "did you consider the possibility that they may have eloped? I mean, they shouldn't have done it on company time, but I think it would be rather romantic…"

Ueda sighed.

"Actually, I thought the same thing myself," he admitted as he ran a hand through his blond hair.

"Well, Ueda-san," she finished, voice still oh-so-soft, "do… Do try not to run yourself down by worrying, okay? I-"

She was immensely glad that she wasn't face to face with her boss, for her cheeks were flaming red as she said the next part, "I'm worried about you."

The words were practically a whisper, gone almost as suddenly as they had appeared, and immediately Yuri cursed her stupidity. Panicking, she put the phone down and prayed that her boss hadn't heard.

He had.

And he couldn't describe the warm feeling spreading through his chest at the words.

…

(A.N. This is terribly bad fic writing, but did I ever say that Ueda was married? I have a horrible feeling I did at one point, and if I did, he's not anymore. (sweatdrop) I hate having to do something like this, but, in my defense, 'Butterflies' is well over novel-length now and if this was a real novel then I would have been able to go back and edit that in the end, but since this isn't a novel, I can't and you'll just have to bear with me (smile))

"I am so nervous about this," Sakura admitted as she sat with Syaoran in the cark park outside the company building.

"And I know it's stupid to worry, because it's only Ueda-san, but I can't help it!" she continued, smiling sheepishly and wringing her hands.

"We probably have good reason to worry," Syaoran admitted, "we just stopped coming to work for… What was it? Something like three weeks? Longer? Ueda-san'll probably fire us!"

"Well," Sakura said, bravely unbuckling her seatbelt as she spoke, "there's only one way to find out what fate has in store for us."

…

"Yuri-san," Ueda said experimentally as he knocked the door to his secretary's office. Yuri panicked and stayed silent, hoping that she could sneak off into a toilet or something. Because, oh God, what if he knew, what if that small slip-up on her part had ruined everything?

However, Ueda was not dismayed by the lack of answer and, after knocking and calling her name a second time, came right in.

"Ah, Yuri-san," he said, brightening immediately when he saw that she was actually there. Fortunately for Yuri, he did not appear to notice that she was sitting very stiffly in her seat, like she was close to bolting or had been caught red-handed, and that her smile was decidedly terrified.

"I just came to say thank you," he continued, and he walked ever-closer to Yuri's desk. He was a mite perplexed when she shifted almost imperceptibly away from him, but he ploughed gamely on.

"Thanks for telling me not to worry," he clarified, "because I was stupid to get so wound up."

He paused, and he and Yuri looked at each other.

Ueda cleared his throat.

"They came back," he said, "came into my office thirty minutes ago."

At that, Yuri forgot her stiffness and leaned forward, suddenly animated.

"Really? They did? Oh, Boss, that's great! Why were they away so long?" she paused to smile knowingly. "They eloped, didn't they? Ah, how romantic!"

Ueda chuckled softly.

"Really, Yuri-san, I think you're getting a little carried away. Although," he admitted, "the elopement theory was pretty close. They actually got married, but it was a big, planned ceremony. Then they moved house, and…"

He sighed.

"Let's just say that they were busy for those weeks they were away."

Yuri leaned back in her seat, satisfied that there was at least some sort of wedding, even if it wasn't of the wildly romantic elopement sort.

"I must say, I thought they were…" Ueda began, then trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

"Destined for each other?" Yuri suggested dramatically, clasping her hands under her chin and sighing dreamily.

Again, Ueda was forced to chuckle.

"Something like that," he nodded, smiling. "Though, I'm not certain I would have been so dramatic about it."

Yuri rolled her eyes good-naturedly and shook her head teasingly.

"Typical man," she teased, grinning.

Ueda readily returned her grin.

"No, I think you just read too many romance novels, Yuri-san," he said, blue eyes twinkling.

"I think you're right," she said softly, and as she looked at him, the look on her face was achingly sad.

…

"We are," Sakura said cheerfully as she sat down at her desk and zoomed up and down in her adjustable chair, "the _luckiest _people in the history of this company."

"Absolutely," Syaoran agreed, equally as chipper. "We were really lucky not to have got fired – they should really have fired us."

Then Sakura caught sight of what was on Syaoran's screen and she gave him a look.

"So don't you owe it to them to be doing something more productive than solitaire!"

…

_Email from headseamstress(at)daidoujidesigns(dot)com (Sorry the address is all garbled – it's just that F F . N e t strips anything that looks like a link – hope everyone can read it!)_

_To: himitsudesu(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_Eriol,_

_I was thinking that maybe we should go over to dinner at Sakura and Syaoran's – I figured we could bring some of the lasagne I spent hours making last night (from what Sakura has said, they are in desperate need of some good meals – they've only eaten proper food once this week)._

_Plus I figured we could be referees in the whole fight over décor._

_Tomoyo_

…

"I can't believe I've actually missed this place!" Sakura exclaimed as she stood up in the middle of the office, flung out her arms and took a deep breath.

Syaoran watched her, smiling.

"You really do look very comical," he said, smiling. She turned to him and pouted.

"Thanks, Syaoran," she said sarcastically as she flopped back down into her seat.

"Anytime," he grinned.

…

_Email from: himitsudesu(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_To: headseamstress(at)daidoujidesigns(dot)com_

_Tomoyo dearest,_

_I have a couple of disagreements with your email. Firstly, I'm not sure I'd call that lasagne good food (of course, I'm only judging it by the large clouds of black smoke you managed to create while cooking it). Secondly, if Sakura-san and Syaoran-san didn't invite us over for dinner, then it would be very rude of us to just barge in (whether we come bearing (questionable) gifts or not.)_

_And thirdly, I love you, but I am not willing to referee a fight between those two about anything._

_Eriol_

_…_

"And home again," Sakura sighed as she unwound her scarf from her neck. Syaoran gently closed the front door of their home behind him, and the noise echoed in the hall, which still had several boxes on the floor – needless to say, Sakura had been avoiding fully unpacking like the plague.

"It's cold out there, isn't it?" Syaoran asked her brightly as he took her coat for her. Sakura giggled.

"What?" he asked, smiling already.

"You're all flushed with the cold," she said fondly, clasping her hands to his freezing cheeks.

"God, your hands are lovely and warm," he murmured and closed his eyes.

"Your face is shockingly cold! Is it numb?" Sakura demanded, rubbing his face in an effort to try to generate some heat.

"It was, but it's getting better," he answered honestly.

Suddenly Sakura whipped her hands from his face, and Syaoran, startled, felt his eyes fly open.

"I'm going to do turn the heating on," she said decisively, nodding. "That's the best course of action."

And with that, she raced down the hall.

Syaoran watched her go.

"Actually," he murmured, "I think the former course of action was working just fine."

…

Sakura and Syaoran were sprawled on the sofa an hour later, revelling in their home's efficient heating system, when they heard a knock at the door.

Sakura checked her watch, ready to say something about 'callers at an ungodly hour', when she realised that it was only seven P.M. Damn it, she was pretty tired – in fact, she was so tired she had assumed it had to be about eleven.

The knocking occurred again, and she and Syaoran looked at each other, playing a game of 'you get it' 'no, you get it!' without words. Eventually, the knocking happened again and Sakura decided that if the caller was so insistent about getting in, it had to be important.

So she glared at Syaoran for being able to ignore the knocking and heaved herself off the couch. Syaoran grinned innocently at her in return.

She opened the door, fully prepared to yell at whoever had dared get her out of her seat, when she saw that it was Tomoyo and Eriol standing on the doorstep.

Tomoyo was grinning and holding a couple of plastic, Chinese takeaway-style containers. Eriol gave her an apologetic look over his containers, and he looked distinctly as though he had been dragged there.

"Tomoyo-chan! Eriol-san!" she exclaimed, her temporary and probably irrational anger instantly abating. "Hello!"

"Hi!" Tomoyo replied brightly as she walked straight into the house. She stepped into the hall and removed her coat, scarf, hat and gloves (Tomoyo always had been the sort to feel the cold), then paused and looked worried.

"You took a long time to answer the door, Sakura-chan," she said, and although she tried to maintain a strictly apologetic expression, the corners of her mouth were twitching in another grin, "I do hope we didn't interrupt anything."

There used to be a time when Sakura would have blushed to the extreme at a comment like that, but she had learned to simply roll her eyes.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, but we do come bearing gifts," Eriol said, holding up his containers of lasagne.

Sakura waved a hand and smiled.

"Don't talk nonsense! Of course I'm delighted to have you here!" she assured him. Then she heard a 'hello' from behind her, and she turned to see Syaoran in the doorway.

"Hello, Syaoran-san!" Tomoyo greeted happily. "We brought dinner!"

Syaoran smiled and moved slowly from the doorway towards Tomoyo.

"Well now," he said, smiling, "wasn't that considerate of you? What is it?"

"Lasagne," Tomoyo informed him. "I made it myself," she concluded proudly. Syaoran made a face.

"You know, I've suddenly lost my appetite," he joked, and Sakura punched him playfully in mock-punishment, after which he pouted and let out a little 'ow!'

Sakura smiled as she looked around at her friends. This was exactly what she wanted – all of them together.

"No, seriously, thanks very much for bringing dinner along," Syaoran said sincerely to Tomoyo.

"My pleasure," she said.

"Now," she grinned, "what's all this I've been hearing about couches and paint colors?"

Sakura and Syaoran groaned.

…

"See, now I really think that this shade of lemon would be lovely for the living room."

Sakura, Syaoran, Eriol and Tomoyo were eating their lasagne off their laps on the floor of the living room, and Sakura was pointing out to Tomoyo a color sample in a paint brochure.

"Yuck," Syaoran said succinctly.

"I actually quite like the lemon –" Tomoyo began, and Syaoran pulled a revolted face, so she hastily added – "but I know that Syaoran-san doesn't, so I'm sure we can reach some sort of compromise to suit everyone."

…

"Thanks again for dinner," Syaoran said to Tomoyo and Eriol as he and Sakura saw them off at the door a few hours later.

"No problem," Tomoyo said breezily.

"Glad we could help," Eriol said with a shrug.

"And thanks for helping decide our décor," he thanked Tomoyo. Again, she grinned, and replied that it was no problem.

"I'm not sure you're going to have the most color-coordinated house ever, but at least we managed to satisfy both of you in some way," she continued.

"And we'll be more than happy to assist with the painting," Eriol promised.

"Thanks. You two are turning out to be real lifesavers!" Sakura exclaimed.

And they said goodbye, and were gone.

And Sakura was okay with watching them leave.

…

Sakura and Syaoran slept in separate rooms. Each was a fair size, containing a single bed. They were actually guest bedrooms, but the master bedroom, with its huge bed, was unoccupied.

Sakura and Syaoran's plan was, if anyone came to visit who didn't know about the short-term nature of Sakura and Syaoran's marriage then the two of them would just move into the master bedroom. Simple.

Sakura climbed into bed that night feeling exhausted and yet, strangely buoyant.

She really felt like her life was getting back to normal – she was back at work, and still seeing Tomoyo and Eriol every day. All the madness of the past few weeks, with business trips, drunken marriage, planning and executing a massive church wedding and now, moving in with Syaoran, seemed to truly be past her.

All she had to do now was make it through the next six months without incident, and things could back to the way they were. Everything would be fine, the way it was before.

So why, when she heard Syaoran call "good night!" in to her, did she feel like her life had changed, and would never be the same?

And all because of him.

…

A.N. This is quite a busy chapter, with me trying to communicate an awful lot of information, still keep the fic moving along, _and _introduce a new romantic subplot in the form of Ueda/Yuri! (Yes, you will be seeing more of them!)

Of course, I have to pile extra work on myself just because I couldn't resist not pairing Ueda (who I have grown strangely attached to) with somebody -)

Oh well, it's worth it!

Anyway, I'll see you all next chapter, by which time I hopefully will have decided on a title.

Shattered Midnight Dreams…zzz…

Because life's like that sometimes…


	2. Washing The Dishes With Tears

_The insane musings of the authoress: _I had problems getting myself motivated (and finding time, I must admit) to write this chapter. I must learn better time management. I mean, how on earth do important people, like the Queen or Bill Gates, manage! My mind boggles.

Oh, and yay for the fact I managed to sort out the whole title thing! –beams- So our title is now 'Butterflies: In Spring' and the new summary is sojourn-themed! It's a double whammy, really, as now everyone who didn't know what a sojourn was, does now, and also I didn't like the old summary (I wrote it in a hurry).

**ALSO, THE SONG LYRICS IN THIS CHAPTER ARE © ME!**

_Disclaimer: _I do not own CCS.

_Special thanks to: _Everyone who reviewed the last chapter – I really don't think it deserved 120+ reviews (blushes)

_Extra Special thanks to: _Lily, who is not very well. At all. I'm sorry you're not feeling good, babe! huggles

And Sylphie, because she's great, and never fails to make me laugh.

And also to anyone else who deserves thanks, but who I have, in my haste, forgotten.

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Two_

_Washing The Dishes With Tears_

"Good morning!" Sakura chirped happily as she walked into the kitchen, feeling bright and awake on the unusually gorgeous November morning. Despite the fact that she had tried to tame it with a brush before descending the stairs, her hair was sticking up in a manner akin to a bird's nest (and not a very well-made one at that), but she found she didn't care. She felt strangely happy and buoyant, for some reason. Perhaps it was the birds singing outside, or the good quality of the sleep she'd had last night.

"Mm," Syaoran grunted in response. He was slumped in his chair, his hair in even more disarray than Sakura's as he frowned into the mug he was holding.

"Goodness, somebody's not their cheerful self this morning!" Sakura joked good-naturedly as she reached into the fridge for a carton of milk.

"There's no coffee left," Syaoran explained as he rubbed his eyes futilely, and continued to scowl at whatever his mug contained.

"Ah," Sakura said, smiling as she picked up the necessary equipment for eating a bowl of cereal and sat down at the kitchen table, "that would explain it."

"I think you're just extra chirpy this morning," Syaoran mumbled as he blinked tiredly, "and so I look tired and grumpy in comparison. What's got you so happy, anyway?"

Sakura blinked at that, and, not knowing what to say, mulled the question over in her head as she looked down at the cereal whilst stirring it aimlessly with a spoon.

"I hadn't even noticed I was acting particularly happy this morning," she said finally around a mouthful of cereal that was getting steadily soggier. She swallowed, and continued, "but if I am, I guess it's just because things finally seem to be getting back to normal."

She paused to give a great, beaming smile.

"Well, as normal as they're going to be for the next little while," she conceded.

Syaoran shoved a hand backwards through his unruly hair and finally managed a smile.

"Thanks," he said to Sakura, feeling considerably brighter.

Sakura creased her brow, perplexed.

"For what?" she asked.

"You just cheered me up," he said simply as he got up and walked around behind her chair, pausing to reach over her shoulder and steal a spoonful of her cereal before walking away and ascending the stairs to shower.

…

"We're leaving in FIVE MINUTES, SAKURA!" Syaoran yelled up the stairs to his wife as he pulled on his coat.

"I'm COMING!" she responded grumpily as, up in her bedroom, she gave her reflection a last quick glance in the mirror of her vanity table.

"You've still got five minutes, so don't worry. It's just that we can't be late – not so soon after disappearing for so long!" Syaoran continued as he wound his scarf tightly around his neck, still yelling for Sakura's benefit.

Sakura thumped downstairs four and a half minutes later, looking rushed but triumphant, clutching her bag. Syaoran was ready and waiting for her, holding out her favourite scarlet winter coat and matching scarlet woollen scarf, knitted by Tomoyo.

"Let's go!" Sakura said cheerfully as she finished putting on her scarf.

…

"Oh, Tomoyo-chan, I'm so glad you called!" Sakura exclaimed into the phone when she realised who it was. Sakura's shoes were lying discarded under her desk, kicked off by their owner, who liked to go without shoes in the office (she wasn't sure why).

"Why? What's wrong?" Tomoyo asked worriedly. Sakura groaned and spun herself around in her chair for the hell of it, then answered.

"Tomoyo-chaaan, I am so BOOOORED!" she wailed childishly, unable to stop herself from whining like a four-year-old. "Syaoran is out at a meeting by himself, and I'm all alone!"

"Poor Sakura-chan!" Tomoyo sympathised immediately.

"Anyway, now that we're talking, could I please request something of you?" Sakura asked, back to her normal, business-like self.

"Of course! Anything at all," Tomoyo said cheerfully.

"Could you come with Syaoran and I after work to buy paint?" she asked, now biting the end of a pen.

"Sure! I'd enjoy that," Tomoyo said happily.

…

Sakura, Eriol, Tomoyo and Syaoran were in the paint section of Wal-Mart (A.N. Having considerably more luck than you, Sylphie –grin-) and they were doing quite well with their task of choosing paint for Sakura and Syaoran's new home, despite the baffling nature of the paint section.

As Syaoran had put it, "why the hell do they call it 'dream time'? That's not a color! Why don't they just call it purple, for God's sake?"

So far, the color had been chosen for Sakura's room (a shade of sweet pink, of course. Tomoyo, always ambitious, had decided to try her hand at doing a mural of cherry trees on one of the walls, and so they had brown and green paint as well) and also the color for the living room.

There had been quite a battle over the paint for the living room – Sakura had been adamant that she wanted lemon, while Syaoran refused to go with anything but good old white. Tomoyo had tried to play peacemaker to no avail, so, in the end, Tomoyo said that they would let Eriol, who had not participated so far in the argument, choose the paint color.

And his choice was final.

So, just for the hell of it (and, okay, the look on Syaoran's face), he chose gold paint (with sparkly bits, no less) for the walls…

And an absolutely delicious shade of scarlet for the ceiling.

…

"And now you have to choose the shade of paint you want for your room," Tomoyo instructed Syaoran.

"Finally," Syaoran said grumpily, "I can choose without any resistance."

No prizes for guessing what color he chose.

…

"So," Tomoyo said, consulting her paint shopping list, "we have paint for the living room, lounge-type room, kitchen, Syaoran's room, Sakura's room, and the guest room. We just need paint for the bathroom and the ensuite bathroom – I was thinking just plain white for both – and the master bedroom, for which I'm drawing a blank."

"Lilac," Sakura said suddenly.

"With white curtains, and purple and white pillows and a purple and white bedspread," Syaoran said thoughtfully, smiling a secret sort of a smile at Sakura, who smiled back.

Tomoyo blinked.

"Wow, that was quick," she remarked.

"Easy choice. It reminds us of somewhere we were, not so long ago," Sakura said, smiling softly.

_The place we woke up in after discovering we were married._

…

"That paint cost an absolute fortune," Syaoran remarked as he set down two heavy bags full of cans of the stuff in the hallway of their home that night.

"I'm just glad we've bought it," Sakura sighed. "And I'm even gladder that Tomoyo-chan and Eriol-san are coming over to help us paint this weekend."

…

Despite the stark, almost clinical bright white of their living room, it was a cozy space. Perhaps it was the sunset blazing the sky warm shades of pink, orange and even red in places outside, or perhaps it was the fact that Sakura and Syaoran were wrapped in the comforter from Sakura's bed as they sprawled on the couch together, watching T.V.

"We can call for takeout, or we can get started on dinner," Sakura said suddenly, when she happened to catch a glimpse of the time on her watch as she changed channels.

Syaoran considered this for a second.

"What have we got to make dinner with?" he asked finally. Sakura shrugged.

"Not much. I think we've got vegetables – we could have a salad. Might be kind of a weird salad, but still, we could manage something. And I think we've got a bit of chicken, too."

Syaoran wrinkled his nose.

"We'll have to go shopping soon," he said. He then considered their predicament some more.

"The way I see it," he said, after a few seconds' silence, "we have four options. We can go out for dinner –"

Sakura interrupted him at that point.

"Like to a restaurant?" she attempted to clarify. Syaoran nodded, and Sakura groaned.

"No. I really don't have the energy. Sorry," she said.

"That's okay. Two, we can order takeout –"

Again, Sakura saw it necessary to interrupt, "but I'm going to get so fat! No takeout."

Syaoran decided that she sounded pretty final about that.

"Okay. Two options vetoed. Three, we can eat junk food –"

"See my above reasoning," Sakura said. Syaoran rolled his eyes.

"Sakura, dear, you are _not _going to get fat. Besides, even if you did, I'd still –"

He stopped then, and Sakura, sitting beside him, looked at him, in all his awkward glory, as he quickly stopped himself from saying something he shouldn't.

_I'd still what?_ He asked himself.

"I'd still…" he said again, not sure anymore whether he was talking to Sakura or himself.

"You'd still what?" Sakura prompted, emerald eyes curious.

She was closer to him, Syaoran realised vaguely, than she had been a second ago.

"I'd still…" he said again, although the words had lost all meaning – they were just something he was repeating, for lack of anything else to say.

And she prompted him again, ever so gently, coming closer again, her beautiful delicate hand in the middle of the space between them, clenching gently the surface of the couch to help her keep her balance. She was coming closer, he was certain, just so that she could fix him even more firmly with those _eyes_, and so that he couldn't miss the look in them.

The phone rang, and Syaoran was snapped out of his trance.

Saved by the bell, in a way.

Now he wouldn't have to tell her something that he wasn't sure he knew.

…

"What made her think that that was a good idea?" Syaoran asked Sakura after the phonecall, looking stunned but slightly amused. Sakura was giggling a little as she shrugged.

"I have no idea," she said, laughing, "but we'll have to move our stuff into the other bedroom."

Syaoran sighed.

"We really could have done without the hassle."

"Oh, Syaoran, she thinks she's doing us a favour," Sakura pointed out. "She's your mother, for goodness' sake. I suppose she genuinely thinks we need help settling in."

"At least," Syaoran said, trying to look on the bright side, "she'll probably cook for us while she's here."

"There! It never hurts to be upbeat about things, does it?" she said happily. "Although that reminds me, we haven't decided what to do about tonight's dinner."

…

"I love that apron on you," Sakura said, before dragging her teeth slowly over her bottom lip in a gesture that Syaoran found exquisitely distracting. He watched, fascinated, as her lip turned pale, then as the color rushed back in, redder than before.

"Should I be flattered or insulted?" Syaoran grinned, once he had managed to tear his gaze from his wife's mouth. Sakura grinned back as she went to the refrigerator to get out the chicken.

"I'm going to grill this chicken," she said decisively as she examined the white meat in her hands. Then she looked up at Syaoran.

"I'd like you to wash and chop the assorted vegetables, please, Syaoran," she instructed her husband. He grinned and saluted her.

"Yes, sir," he said jokingly, before rolling up his sleeves and getting to work.

While the chicken cooked in the oven, Sakura pulled off her oven gloves and watched Syaoran work. There was something utterly fascinating about the nimble way his hands moved, chopping the celery so fast she was amazed. There was something beautiful, too, about the way his long fingers grasped the handle of the knife as the silver blade flashed about its work, and the way the muscles tensed and relaxed in his lean arms…

She found her eyes drawn to him; she just couldn't stop from drinking in every little detail that made up Li Syaoran, from the heart-stopping beauty of his eyes, to the striking line of his strong jaw, to the masculine curve of his broad shoulders…

She appreciated anew, right at that moment, just how handsome her husband was.

He turned to her right at that moment, and Sakura jumped, feeling guilty at having been caught staring.

"I think the chicken's done," he said, and, judging by the slight quirking of his lips, he had noticed the rapt fascination with which Sakura had studied him.

_Damn._

…

Syaoran had gone upstairs after dinner and accidentally fallen asleep, but he came back downstairs thirty minutes later.

He walked down the stairs at an ordinary pace, his feet, clad only in socks, making almost no noise against the carpet. However, he paused at the foot of the stairs when he heard music coming from somewhere – a slow, piano-led ballad, presumably playing on the radio, with the words being sung by two feminine voices, though one was overpowering the other by a considerable amount.

He listened a little longer and deducted that the sound was drifting towards him from the kitchen, so he crept slowly and almost silently towards the open door to the room.

_The stars are shining in your hair_

_Talk to me, tell me about _

_Secrets and love and life_

_Tell me that you care_

_Say that you love me_

_Even if you have to pretend_

_I just don't want this moment to end_

_So lie to me, pretend to be_

_The one who loves me tonight_

_Just for now, plant kisses on my lips,_

_Let me love you for just a while_

_Let me watch the stars cry for us_

_While I press kisses to your fingertips_

_So come on and lie to me_

_But make it seem like_

_Maybe it could really be_

_The stars are shining in your hair_

_The velvet night is singing sadly_

_And I am madly, madly…_

_Oh, I can't take my eyes off you_

_I can't take my eyes off you… _

Syaoran leant against the doorway to the kitchen and watched silently. Sakura was elbow-deep in bubbles as she stood at the sink, washing the dishes and singing her heart out, and…

Weeping heartily.

It was the most disturbingly beautiful thing he had seen for a long, long while.

And still she sang, apparently completely unaware of his presence, tears coursing silently down her face, an unstoppable river. It was odd how her singing was utterly uninterrupted – she didn't gasp or sob, just sang in her beautiful voice, crystal clear.

_And I can't help but love you_

_It's so stupid, but you have_

_Eyes like the ocean, so_

_Tell me you love me, too_

_Tell me you love me, too_

_So come on and lie to me_

_Make me think, just for a moment_

_There could be truth in it_

The song trailed off into nothing, and Sakura appeared to snap out of her trance. She lifted her hands to her face and traced the wet salty trails with her fingertips with a resigned sort of a look, as if she just wanted to make absolutely certain that she had been crying.

"Hey," Syaoran said softly, stepping into the room at last, "are you okay?"

Sakura jumped, startled, at the sound of his voice and spun around to look at him.

"Yes, yes!" she assured him immediately, wiping hurriedly at her cheeks. Syaoran's forehead creased in concern.

"Are you sure? I mean, you're crying…"

As soon as he opened his mouth to say that, Syaoran cringed. _Hooray for stating the obvious._

"Oh!" she said airily, waving her hand as if trying to rid the notion that there was anything wrong with her. "Just… Just being silly. That song always makes me cry – the singer sings it with such emotion, and I just feel so sorry for the girl in the song… She loves him so helplessly, and I just…"

She shrugged and gave him a wan sort of smile.

"You just wish that life wasn't so unfair that way," he finished. Sakura nodded.

She looked so _lost _somehow, standing there, cheeks wet. He didn't know what to _do_, but he wanted to make it _better_, somehow, and she was hurt, and she had worried him and he didn't know what to do…

So he did the first thing that entered his mind and went to Sakura and gathered her into his arms, hugging her close, his face buried in her hair, the scent of which filled his nostrils.

"You worried me, you know," he murmured gently.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Would you like some help with the dishes?" he asked, and they both laughed.

…

"Syaoran," Sakura said hesitantly ten minutes later, while she dried a glass, "earlier… You said that even if I did get fat, you would still… What were you going to say?"

She spoke hurriedly, the words running into each other, and she couldn't look at him, her gaze instead trained on her glass. Syaoran looked at her, and as if she could feel her gaze on him, she looked at him, too.

"I was going to say that I'd still think you were beautiful."

…

A.N. Slightly longer chapter than usual. Yay! **THESE SONG LYRICS ARE © ME!**

I actually really, really hate songwriting – I suck at it. I hate it for the same reason I hate poetry – it's restrictive. You can't have as many words as you'd like, as the lines should be of a similar length. It's hard to get it all to flow, especially because I wanted to rhyme some of the lines. However, I needed a song with this sort of topic, but I couldn't find anything completely appropriate. Even Depeche Mode's 'Lie To Me' wasn't absolutely what I wanted, though it was the closest I managed to get with my very limited musical knowledge. So I resorted to writing my own.

**However much it may suck, it's MINE, so steal it and I'll… Well, I'll leave that to your imagination.**

_I'll see you all next time!_

_Shattered __Midnight__ Dreams…zzz…_

_Mine is a dream that was lost in a breeze, because life's like that sometimes…_


	3. Cold Shower

_The insane musings of the authoress: _Despite the fact that I have discovered a new love for procrastination, I managed to start this chapter on a sensible day in order to meet my usual Sunday update target.

Yay me.

_Disclaimer: _I own not CCS.

_Special thanks to: _All the lovely reviewers beamsThanks for being kind about the travesty of a song : -) And your response is still overwhelming.

_Extra-special thanks to: _Sylphie, for not only being a great translator, but also a kick-ass friend. Love you!

Lily – happy birthday, babe!

**Ciuline**** Ihmenjo and LynnMinmay – **Ciuline-san gave me the title, and Lynn-san's theme of 'sojourn' gave me my summary. Thank you so much, you two! huggles

**Review Reply to Ms./Mr Anonymous: **

I received this review from a person known only as 'Anonymous'. And I quote – '_i__ know that what i'm about to say will affect my chances of me living tomorrow__so__ here it is: i don't think that this story is THAT great. why do people like__it__ so much? i mean, compared to all the other stories out there... this is like__shit__, but then again... it's just my opinion.'_

I see you didn't leave a name or contact information, clearly you are not completely stupid. I say that not because I would personally have tracked you down and hurled abuse at you, but because I know a few people who would (I'm looking very nervously at you, Sylph –grin-)

I respect your opinion wholeheartedly. In fact, I praise you for coming forward with it, even though you weren't willing to reveal yourself like a brave person who was proud of their opinion (and also despite the fact that I am the sort of person who believes in the philosophy 'if you can't say something nice…', but I respect that some people aren't like that).

However, I do have some quibbles – firstly, I have never claimed that 'Butterflies' or, indeed, its sequel, is any good. In fact, I constantly joke about the fact that they're little pieces of silliness and not very good pieces of silliness, at that. I am perfectly aware that this is not the best that the CCS fandom has to offer. I have always said that I am not setting out to win any prizes with them.

You asked why people like it so much. Well, I didn't ever _ask _anyone to like it. I think people like it because 'Butterflies' and 'Butterflies: In Spring' are not serious. When people have had a hard day, they don't like to read a piece of flowery, serious, plot-filled angst, no matter how pretty or eloquent it is.

I think people like 'Butterflies' because it's light and not a demanding thing to read. I think they like it because it never pretends to be what it's not, and I'd like to think I'm a nice authoress who's down to earth and very ordinary – my skills aren't intimidating, either. I have always found it's easier to like something if you don't hate the authoress, and I don't think people do hate me.

'Butterflies' and 'Butterflies: In Spring' are what they are. They're not to be taken seriously – they're not the best examples of my writing. They are here to give people a laugh, perhaps; or to provide them with fluffy moments without too much thought required. 'Butterflies' was something I started on a lark, to be honest. It's come a long way and people like it – people tell me it makes them happy, and what's wrong with that?

I am perfectly aware of the fact that there are better stories out there – I'm forever directing my readers to what I consider to be really good fanfiction – I have recommended Suppi-chan's 'Icebreakers' I don't know how many times. Suppi-chan is an example of someone who is at the top of her craft. I'm not, but the crucial thing is that I _know _that.

I must point out that I don't agree with this – 'compared to ALL THE OTHER stories out there, this is like shit…'. Although I will never claim to be the best out there, I know I'm not the worst. There are people who can't spell, or who can't format, or who can't punctuate or even form a proper sentence. My writing may not be the best in terms of plot or description or substance or whatever, but I pride myself on the fact that the technical side of it is pretty good – nobody has ever complained about my grammar, punctuation or spelling.

I'm sorry, but that comment was blatantly incorrect.

Anyway, thank you for expressing your opinion. I appreciate that.

(Sorry to bother you all with that!)

**_Some Questions Some Of You Had_**

_What does Ueda look like?_

A lot of you said you picture the typical balding, middle-aged boss when you think of him. However, Ueda is actually quite young (about twenty-eight) and has blonde hair and blue eyes. I think of him as being actually rather attractive (not in the same league as Syaoran, unfortunately) but he's one of those people whose kindness just shines out of his face. He's a very nice, very good, very pleasant man. He is also, however, prone to worrying and a little dense about things.

_Will this arc be as long as the first?_

PLEASE GOD NO! Ahem What I meant was, no, it won't be (or I would surely die of exhaustion by the end, and all you readers would have withered away with boredom). It should be about fourteen chapters in total, or at least, that's my target. I'll probably go over by a few chapters, especially since I have an epilogue planned.

_Was Syaoran going to say 'I'd still love you' to Sakura?_

To be succinct, no. He hasn't realised that yet. I realise that I probably misled you on that one, but at no point in the previous chapter was he going to say 'I'd still love you.' Sorry! (But good things come to those how wait, readers! smile)

_I have noticed there appears to be less humor in this arc…_

An observation, not a question, but we'll go with it. Yes, some of you may have noticed that this arc isn't even classified as 'Romance/Humor', it is just 'Romance'. This arc is going to be more serious. I think we'll be getting closer to the characters being sad than them making us laugh, to be honest. We're hardly going to make it to major angst (come on, this is Butterflies!), but I don't think there will be as much humor in this arc.

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Three_

_Cold Shower_

Sakura and Syaoran moved their belongings into the master bedroom that night, though Yelan wasn't due to arrive until the day after the next day.

It was rather weird, Sakura had to admit to herself as she watched Syaoran move her things for her, to think that they would be sleeping in the same bed while Yelan was here.

It was even weirder to see her toothbrush beside Syaoran's in the ensuite bathroom. She couldn't quite pinpoint _why _the sight was so weird, but it _was_. Perhaps it was the domesticity of it.

Or perhaps it was the weird swooping feeling she got in her stomach when she caught sight of it.

Really, Sakura thought to herself as she shook her head and lifted some of her clothes out of the cardboard box they were temporarily in, this marriage thing was making her stranger by the day.

Still, she couldn't stop herself from firmly closing the door to the bathroom.

…

Later that night, clad in her nightgown and a pair of pajama bottoms (Syaoran had actually been offering to lend her a pair of his that she had been coveting furiously because they were so soft, but the thought of wearing them had given her _that stupid feeling again_, so she had declined, and was wearing a pair of her own), Sakura stood in the bedroom, looking at the massive bed.

Just looking at it, and standing still, at the foot of it.

She was lost in myriad confusing thoughts. Syaoran was still downstairs, probably eating his usual bedtime snack.

She couldn't stop herself from thinking about things. The things that had been bothering her lately – the fact that they needed to get furniture delivered, and the fact that the rooms needed painted.

And, if she was honest with herself, about how things had changed. Her head was being bombarded with thoughts about everyone else's lives – how they were all going about conventional engagements, conventional relationships, getting married and having kids and being properly in _love_, and…

Here she was, on some bizarre charade.

The thought was so harsh and unavoidable she wanted to cry.

Or laugh.

The emotions running through her were at once both bewildering and overwhelming, and, with the strange feeling that the thoughts going through her mind were making her very _head _heavy, she sat down on the edge of the bed.

Now, she thought to herself, should I cry, or laugh, or both?

…

Syaoran opened the bedroom door groggily, practically half-asleep already, but he was startled awake by the sight of Sakura sitting on the bed (he couldn't quite call it _their bed, _for some reason). She was just sitting very still, hardly blinking.

"Are you okay?" he asked her concernedly when she didn't even react to his entrance. She jumped at the sound of his voice and was quick with reassurances.

"Yes, yes, fine! I was just thinking about something, I was only sitting for ten minutes or so. Goodness, I'm tired!"

Okay, slightly babbled reassurances, but reassurances nonetheless.

She got up hurriedly, like she had been scalded by the bedclothes, and went round to the side of the bed closest to her.

"Sakura…" he said, and she looked up again.

"What? I'm fine!" she said again, laughing, one hand clutching a corner of the comforter in preparation for turning it down.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked, and she faltered for a second. It's almost imperceptible, but it's _there_.

And he noticed.

"Oh, just things. The rooms need painted, and your mother's coming. Unimportant, mundane things, really," she said, waving a hand like it was nothing.

He frowned. She was a good actress, but…

"If you're sure you're okay…" he said slowly. She nodded hurriedly.

"Okay, then," he said, turning to leave, "I'll be back in ten minutes, alright? I'm just going to go get changed."

…

When Syaoran returned, in ten minutes as promised, Sakura was in bed, under the covers, apparently asleep. Syaoran padded silently to her side across the carpeted floor and watched her for a second. Her eyelids were flickering just a little too much to be believable.

"Sakura?" he whispered into her ear. There was no response, but he was certain she was faking it. Her breathing was all wrong – not deep enough.

"Sakura," he said again, a little more insistently. She didn't stir. He trailed a fingertip absently over one of her cheeks, so lightly he was sure it had to be ticklish. Still no response.

For a second, Syaoran contemplated the wicked notion of waking 'Sleeping Beauty' with a kiss. But although that was a most lovely concept, he couldn't quite justify it to himself, so he settled for sighing and saying, "goodnight, Sakura."

Before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Syaoran climbed into bed beside his wife, and Sakura felt like a mark had been branded onto her forehead, where his kiss lingered and tingled.

…

The next morning dawned gorgeous and bright, just like the day before – an unusual double dose of good weather, considering it was November.

Syaoran had woken a good half hour before his alarm had had its chance to rudely awaken him like usual, and so he was taking advantage of the extra time he had to lie in bed…

And, okay, look at his wife.

Hardly a crime, after all, as they were married (albeit unconventionally). He just couldn't help but look at her – his gaze was drawn to her like a magnet, and for once, he could stare without fear of being caught. The lure was just too much to resist.

And he wasn't hurting her or anything. Or violating her, or taking advantage of her while she was asleep.

But maybe tracing the line of her collarbone with a fingertip _was _taking advantage. He hadn't _meant _to, you understand, but the soft pale skin was _begging _for it…

_Now, Syaoran_, a little voice in his head said, _if you acted on the thoughts running through your head right now, that_ _would be taking advantage of the situation._

_What, just because maybe I want to kiss her there?_ He thought somewhat defensively.

And _bite and suck and lick 'til you leave a mark_, the other voice added. Syaoran flushed.

_But don't you agree that a blood red mark would look striking against her pale skin…_

_You're salivating at the thought, aren't you?_ the voice asked somewhat smugly.

_I am not! _he protested.

_Anyway, there's no way I'm going to let you give her a great big fat hickey, and while she's _asleep_, no less! _the voice said.

_Maybe I could wake her up and _ask _her first… _Syaoran thought absently.

The voice didn't say anything. It didn't have to.

_I'm being absurd, aren't I? _Syaoran asked with a grin. _It would be hilarious, though, wouldn't it, just to see her face…_

_Syaoran, you are _not _going to ask her if you can give her a hickey, whether you're pretending it's just for comedy's sake or not! _

_But I could pretend I was doing it to help make things more authentic! After all, a nice hickey would just help us look more like we're indulging in wild passion in true newlywed fashion!_

There was silence for a few seconds.

Syaoran could have sworn he heard the voice sigh.

_You're imagining the two of you indulging in wild passion, aren't you? _it asked.

_… I'm going to take a cold shower_, Syaoran thought as he got up.

…

Damn that stupid voice, couldn't it just shut up!

_You're acting like a horny teenager, you know_, it said smugly. Syaoran groaned.

_Just because I want to touch her, and kiss her, that makes me a horny teenager!_

_Well, that on its own doesn't, but the fact that you want to follow those two things up with tearing her clothes off and making passionate love to her… I'd say that makes you horny, at the very least._

Syaoran had no reply to that.

_Yeah, that's right, you just keep under the spray, shower boy_.

…

When Syaoran made it downstairs after an _incredible _amount of time in the shower, he vowed to keep himself under control. He was not going to let himself give in to decidedly more primitive urges.

However, he hadn't counted upon Sakura already being at the table, reading a newspaper and eating a slice of toast, still dressed in her nightclothes. One of the thin straps of her nightgown was hanging off her shoulder, completely exposing a pale shoulder that could have been carved out of pure white marble.

She looked decidedly ravishable, actually, with her face flushed and her hair in disarray like a man (in his imagination, it was of course himself) had run his fingers desperately through it in a fit of passion the night before.

And he himself found he had a sudden urge to pick her up and carry her upstairs for another round.

He drew a very deep, very shuddery breath.

He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. Sakura looked up from her newspaper and smiled at him. Syaoran smiled back and made a wiping gesture at the corner of his mouth. Sakura laughed, said "oh! Whoops!" and swiped a fingertip over the smudge of butter.

_God, she's so adorable…_

"Good morning!" she chirped, laying her newspaper down on the table and taking a sip of orange juice. "How are you this morning?"

_See, Syaoran, this is okay, it isn't awkward at all. You can be totally normal around her, no problem._

"Fine," he said, and somehow the command from his brain to make his voice sound normal got lost on the way to his mouth, for his voice was high-pitched and squeaky. He inwardly cringed and hoped he wasn't blushing.

The squeaky tone was such a sharp contrast to her husband's usual deep baritone that Sakura raised an eyebrow and looked concernedly at him.

"Are you quite sure you're all right?" she asked. "Is your throat sore? Because the flu's going round, and it could be that."

Syaoran cleared his throat rather forcefully and thoroughly.

"No, I don't think it's that," he said, and had to bite his tongue to stop himself from sighing with relief when his voice came out normal, "I think I just need a drink. My throat and mouth get terribly dry at night."

And he got up and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"Well, at least if it _is _the flu, the vitamin C in that juice will help," Sakura observed.

Sakura had to admit, as she watched her husband down a full glass of orange juice so fast it was nothing more than an orange blur as it disappeared, that any observer of the scene would probably imagine Sakura and Syaoran to be the perfect picture of blissful marriage life and peaceful domesticity, what with the wife worrying that her husband is sick, and the husband doing his level best to dismiss his darling wife's (probably irrational) fears.

In Sakura's opinion, as she got up to thump her choking husband on the back (well, he deserved to choke after drinking that juice so fast), it was quite a lovely picture, indeed.

…

"And today's to-do list goes something like this," Sakura began as she finished making marks on a piece of paper in her precise handwriting. She lifted the paper up and began to read from it, "number one, I have to phone Tomoyo-chan and warn her and Eriol-san about Yelan-san coming. Number two, we have to go grocery shopping. Number three, we have to finish that report for the Finance Department. Number four, I have to tell Ueda-san that it's Yuri-san's birthday in five days' time –"

Syaoran interrupted her there.

"Okay, why?" he asked as he nibbled on a pen lid. The report for the Finance Department lay, barely even started, on his desk, blissfully forgotten in favor of listening to his wife, a much more diverting pastime than totting up figures.

Sakura was whirling herself around in her chair, her legs folded up beneath herself to increase that feeling of flying; her shoes lying kicked off under Syaoran's desk today, for some reason.

"You're going to make yourself sick if you keep doing that," Syaoran chided gently and good-naturedly.

"I can't say I care!" she breathed as she spun herself around once again. Syaoran chuckled softly to himself.

"Getting in touch with your inner four-year-old?" he asked teasingly.

"Yeeeesss!" she giggled as she whirled around again. "You should try it sometime, it's really fun."

Then she made the mistake of getting up off her seat. She staggered, clutching her head against the dizziness and would have fallen to the ground had Syaoran not displayed startlingly fast reflexes, leapt up out of his chair like he had been scalded, and caught her arm in a firm but not painful grip.

She gazed up at him with wide jade-colored eyes.

"Thank you," she said quietly, sincerely.

Syaoran could feel himself color.

"It was nothing," he said gruffly.

They stood for a second, Sakura still fighting the force that made her want to giggle and collapse. Then Syaoran seemed almost to snap back to reality, as he gently steered her back to her own seat, which she had strayed from with a few staggering, wobbly steps.

"Anyway," he said when Sakura was safely sitting properly back in her seat, "you were about to tell me why you have to tell Ueda-san about Miss Yuri's birthday."

"Oh yes," Sakura said, grinning. "I can't believe I almost forgot… But please, don't tell me you can't see what's going on there?"

Syaoran looked blankly at her. Sakura sighed and wondered if she could beat her head off her desk.

Well, she could, but Syaoran would probably be sort of freaked out.

"You're just a typical man, aren't you?" she asked in a voice that Syaoran thought could probably be called fond. Well, the smile she followed it up with was definitely fond, as was her second tolerant sigh.

"I think Ueda-san and Yuri-san might…"

Hmm, now, how best to put it?

"Might…"

But Syaoran nodded knowingly then.

"I know what you mean. I've seen the way they look at each other, after all."

Sakura looked back at her to-do list.

"And, lastly, we have to remember to pick up your mother from the airport tomorrow at ten A.M."

Syaoran groaned at that.

"What? What's wrong?" asked a perplexed Sakura.

"Ten A.M.! One of us will have to take time off work to go get her!"

He rubbed his forehead as he thought.

"Could we just send a cab for her?" he asked finally. Sakura shook her head.

"No, I think one of us should get her," she said decisively.

Syaoran drummed his fingers against the surface of his desk as he thought.

"Will I go, or will you?" he asked her. Sakura shrugged.

"You, I suppose. You're her son, after all," she said.

Syaoran watched as his wife gazed out at something beyond the office window. What was she thinking about? Was she worrying, like he was, as to how his mother's visit would go?

…

A.N. This is a longer chapter than usual. beamsThings are moving along quite nicely. I'm trying to keep things going at a good pace as I only have fourteen chapters with which to do this arc gulpsHowever, I can't do indulgently long chapters as I wouldn't have time to churn one out every week. Ah, dilemmas, dilemmas…

Hmm, Syaoran appears to have fallen deeply in lust with Sakura. A bad thing or a good thing? Only time will tell, I suppose grin

_Next chapter: Yelan arrives at the Li residence. What will happen during her stay? Will Sakura and Syaoran be able to uphold their image of being happily married? (Hopefully we'll also see more Ueda and Yuri, but no promises! sweatdrop)_

See you next time!

Shattered Midnight Dreams…zzz…

Mine was a dream that was lost in a breeze, because life's like that sometimes…


	4. Like A Strawberry Field in Summer

_The insane musings of the authoress: _Life is as hectic as ever and my computer has taken it into its head to be temperamental, so turning out chapters is a struggle, to say the least. Happily, though, I'm going to be off school for Easter for the next two weeks, so I hope I will be able to produce a few chapters in that time.

_Special thanks to: _Everyone who reviewed. I was really surprised by the support you all showed me after the anonymous reviewer incident. I was really, really touched. Thank you all.

_Extra special thanks to: _Sylphie, because… Well, how could I not? I can't begin to explain how she deserves this small mention every chapter. I only wish I could offer her something greater.

Lily, because she keeps me smiling, even on the gray days.

_Disclaimer: _CCS is not mine.

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Four_

_Like A Strawberry Field in Summer_

"I'm so glad to be here!" Li Yelan exclaimed as she threw her arms around her 'daughter' Sakura's neck. Sakura made a small 'mmpf!' sound under the force of her mother-in-law's bear hug.

Behind his mother, Syaoran rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at his mother's back in an expression that clearly said Yelan had done the _exact _same thing to him at the airport.

"I-I'm glad you're here, too!" Sakura choked out through Yelan's virtual stranglehold. Sakura had just come through the door after work, and she hadn't expected to be practically _assaulted _in her own hall, but she had to admit she liked it. Yelan was the first real mother-type figure Sakura had ever had, not counting Sonomi, of course.

"Here, let me take your coat!" Yelan exclaimed cheerily, and Sakura gasped a much-needed breath when Yelan abruptly let go. Her mother-in-law promptly wrestled Sakura impatiently out of her coat, smiling brightly (and perhaps slightly manically) all the while.

When Yelan turned her back to hang the coat on the coat-stand, Sakura mouthed 'what's _wrong _with her?' to Syaoran. Syaoran mouthed something back, grinning, but Sakura didn't catch it, and by that time Yelan had turned back towards them.

So Sakura decided to be more direct.

"Well, Yelan-san, you certainly seem very… Bright today!" Sakura commented in what she hoped appeared to be a casual way.

"Oh, I'm just so happy to see you two!" she exclaimed, but Syaoran was desperately holding in a laugh and shaking his head from behind his mother, where Sakura could see him but Yelan couldn't. Sakura furrowed her brow at him in the universal expression of 'what?', but smiled at Yelan at the same time.

Then Yelan turned and bustled into the kitchen without warning, unintentionally leaving Sakura and Syaoran to have a very quick talk.

"Okay, what is it? What's wrong with her?" Sakura asked Syaoran hurriedly.

"Mother is terrified of flying," Syaoran explained, "so I think she must have had a little drink…"

"You mean she's drunk?" Sakura interrupted, speaking in a hiss.

Syaoran shook his head rapidly, trying to rid that thought from her mind as quickly as possible.

"No, no! Mother just doesn't _do _drunk… No, she's just tipsy, I think. She's just had enough to take the edge off," he said thoughtfully. Sakura sighed.

"Okay. I'll try to see if I can convince her to go to bed. I mean, I'm tired enough as it is – I don't think I'm going to able to deal with your mother being chirpy as well, because, no offence, but…" Sakura said, trailing off hopelessly.

Syaoran grinned.

"Don't worry, none taken. Besides, if she doesn't go to bed she'll be absolutely exhausted in the morning, what with the flight and all," he reasoned.

Sakura nodded.

"And she'll be back to her normal, composed, very elegant self in the morning, hopefully. Helplessly giddy just doesn't suit Yelan-san," she said, frowning.

…

She was a violet, Ueda decided.

She was unusual, so a bunch of ordinary roses just wouldn't suit her at all, and she wasn't bold, so the bright, striking tiger lilies weren't right, either. No, Yuri-san was a violet – she could be quiet and even timid, sometimes, with certain people. So she was a shrinking violet.

However, if you got to know her, if you prodded her gently and repeatedly, she would open up and you could see the bright yellow streak on her inside – the streak that glowed when she laughed, or talked feverishly about the things that mattered dearly to her.

Yes, he thought as he studied the display of beautiful purple flowers in front of him, Yuri-san was definitely a violet.

…

Syaoran gazed at Sakura with a silent 'well?' as she stood in the doorway of the living room later that night. She was Yelan-less and grinning, which was a good sign, Syaoran thought.

"Worked like a charm," she said in answer to his unspoken question as she sat down beside him on the couch. Syaoran blinked.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. Sakura nodded.

"Yeah. I think she was happy that she got to help out with dinner anyway, and exhaustion got the best of her," she answered.

"I can't believe that all you had to do was show her her room and she just went to bed!" Syaoran said happily as he changed the channel. Sakura shrugged.

"I was a little surprised myself, if I'm honest," she answered.

…

Ueda checked his watch as he waited in line for a coffee. Really he should have just gone home, he knew, but the flower store was just beside his very favourite coffee place, and who was he to resist? The thickly flowery perfume of the violets wafted up towards his nose as he checked the flowers to make sure he wasn't crushing them.

The door opened again, but the little place was so busy that Ueda had heard the noise quite a few times as customers and staff came and left and so he didn't even look up. He only looked up when he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind him (actually he jumped in a startled manner as opposed to just looking up in a cool way like he would have wanted when he saw who it was).

Yuri had joined the end of the queue behind him and she was smiling happily at him. She looked like she had just left work and she was dressed in a thick, warm-looking scarlet winter coat. Her up-do, so neat and precise, obviously painstakingly done that morning, had started to unravel as strands fell around her face.

"Oh, Yuri-san!" he said, trying to laugh off his embarrassment. "You frightened me!"

Yuri just grinned, but then she noticed the flowers being embraced so lovingly and gently in his arms, and she felt herself frown. Who were they for? His mother? His sister? His _girlfriend_?

He must have noticed her looking, for he colored and moved them almost imperceptibly to the side. It didn't help to hide them at all, but she noticed the movement all the same. She wanted to joke with him about it, wanted to tease him about a secret girlfriend, or call him a mama's boy and watch him turn red.

In fact, no, really she didn't want to do that. What she really wanted was to demand who they were for, and not let him get away until he admitted it.

But that wasn't enough, either. Sure, she wanted to ask him who they were for, but she then wanted him to eventually, in that bashful way he had, tell her that they were for her.

Violets were her favourite flowers, after all.

…

Syaoran was sitting downstairs, munching his way through his fourth bowlful of microwavable popcorn and wondering whether he could possibly get away with sleeping on the couch that night. He just didn't think he could face sleeping in the same bed as Sakura, not after that morning…

And to think he'd be thinking all those things about Sakura with his mother in the next room, no less!

He groaned and checked his watch. It was two in the morning and he was exhausted. The idea of just going to sleep on the couch was tempting, but his mother was an early riser and she'd be sure to catch him.

And so he sighed and headed upstairs.

…

Because she was a wimp (in her own opinion), Yuri hadn't said anything about the flowers to Ueda. Instead, the two of them had stood in line together, mostly in companiable silence but occasionally chatting about things. Ueda seemed overly _twitchy _or something to Yuri – it was like he really didn't want to be there at all, like he was in a real hurry to get away. She couldn't understand it.

Ueda had left as soon as he got his coffee – he had things to do, he had said mysteriously. She had bid him goodbye and headed to a seat in the crowded space where she spent an hour contemplating what had just happened.

Her coffee had long gone cold by the time she left.

…

Syaoran fell asleep at three A.M. after an awful lot of pleading with his brain _to just please shut down _and stop racing with thoughts about his wife, and an awful lot of not looking at his bedmate.

And not thinking about the fact that, when she moved in her sleep, her thigh grazed his.

…

Syaoran awoke the next morning to find the bed empty. His still half-asleep brain panicked for a second when it registered the fact that she was gone – in the irrationality of a not fully-awake male, he immediately jumped to the conclusion that something bad had happened to her.

But then he woke properly and realised that she was probably just downstairs.

…

In fact, he ran into her in the hallway on his way to the kitchen. She smiled her sunny smile at him, and her smile only widened when he just blinked sleepily back at her.

"You're so cute when you're sleepy!" she said cheerfully, and then she seemed to realise what she had said, and she colored slightly.

But, to their luck, Yelan walked past at that exact moment, just in time to hear the comment, and she beamed from ear to ear.

"I'm just popping to the bathroom," she said, "then I'll get started on breakfast, okay?"

And she walked up the stairs and away.

Clearly eager to avoid discussing the comment she had made, Sakura began to talk.

"Sorry that I'm wearing your shirt," she said, pulling at it, "but I thought it would make everything look more authentic."

"Don't worry, it looks better on you anyway," he said, shrugging. Sakura's face colored more, and she gave a nervous cough.

"Oh," she said, and paused, uncertain as to whether she dared add 'thank you'. She noticed Syaoran's eyes travel up and down her – from her messy, just-tumbled-out-of-bed hair to his blue shirt, the sleeves – far too long for her, obviously – rolled up to just beyond her elbows, the hem of it skimming the middle of her bare thighs, the skin pale and smooth. Her feet were bare, and she looked glorious.

"I was going for 'elegantly rumpled'" she explained hastily, face burning at his lazy, unhurried, appreciative gaze.

"Elegantly… _Rumpled_…" he repeated, and there was something about his voice that made a shiver race down her spine. She continued to look at him with wide eyes.

"I can… Help you with that…" he said, and he was walking forward ever so slightly, his steps almost imperceptible, until she could feel the wall against her back. His hands went to the wall either side of her head to support himself as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "the rumpled part, I mean."

She shivered, and for just a second she panicked. Then she remembered, and she understood – she knew now what he was doing. _Their talk last night._

"Oh?" she said, and although she didn't want it to, her voice came out high-pitched, squeaky and wavering. _When did his hands get in her hair?_

"Mmm hmm," he said, drawing the syllables out, his breath playing against her cheek, gentle and warm. His gaze was flicking slowly over her face, drinking in her features. There was something _animal _about the look in his eyes that made her catch her breath.

Finally, he lowered his head and her eyes fell closed as he dropped a gentle kiss on her jaw. Her eyes opened and they looked at each other, their breath coming faster. He couldn't stop looking at her; he knew he'd never get tired of just staring at her, because he'd never seen someone so achingly beautiful. Her eyes were so green they made his heart hurt.

He moved closer to her even though he could hardly get closer; pressed against her, feeling her breathe, the scent of her hair, like a strawberry field in summer, driving him mad…

And she didn't even know that she made him feel this way.

His hands came away from her hair and he wrapped his arms around her, his face buried in the honey-colored softness of her hair, that infernal scent curling itself pleasantly around his nose and he closed his eyes, letting it wash over him.

She was so soft and warm in his arms, and he realized then and there that he wanted to stay this close to her forever; he wanted to smell her hair and feel the warmth of her skin and be this close to her always; he never wanted to let her go.

"Syaoran?" she said quietly, gently questioning, just softly wondering. He shook his head, and she could feel the movement in her hair.

_Don't speak_, he said without words, and she understood.

…

A.N. And so this chapter got a new, WAFFy ending. All in the name of moving things along quicker /smile/ Originally it had a very different ending, but I think this one is nicer. (Blame the fluff levels of the ending on the fact that I wrote this listening to the 'Love Actually' original film soundtrack that I just got – I hearts it so MUCH!)

Anyway, usually I can tell if a chapter has gone well or covered a lot of things or been particularly worthwhile by the ease with which I manage to name it. Usually the more boring chapters that I had a really hard time writing are a real torture to name, but the ones that came easily aren't, and this chapter had about five possibles before I decided on its final one.

Anyway, I'm trying to speed things up a little in order to actually hopefully stick to my target of fourteen chapters (including an epilogue which may have two parts), although I'm one of those authoresses who can have a tendency to put too much detail into unimportant things and is afraid of just jumping to the important scenes – I always have to build-up to everything, so I end up describing lots of mundane things /sweatdrop/

_Things to consider: Yuri has jumped to the wrong conclusion about the violets – what's going to happen there? Yelan's still got two more days with her son and daughter-in-law – how will they pan out? What is the 'talk' that Sakura and Syaoran supposedly had last night? _

_NEXT CHAPTER TEASER: We hear from a few names we may have forgotten…_

Shattered Midnight Dreams…zzz…

Mine is a dream that was lost in a breeze, because life's like that sometimes…


	5. Confusion

_The insane musings of the authoress: _I owe you all an apology, don't I? I missed posting last week, and I'm sure I disconcerted a lot of you. You're used to your weekly helping, aren't you:)

Unfortunately, my PC broke with absolutely stunning timing, and so I had no net access to allow me to upload this part. I'm really, really sorry, but sometimes circumstances can't be overcome.

I do hope that you enjoy this chapter, now that you have gotten it, however.

_Disclaimer: _CCS not mine.

_Special thanks to: _Everyone who reviewed the last part. Huggles to all of you!

_Extra-special thanks to: _Sylphie (happy birthday, babe!), whom I solemnly pledge to finally properly email tomorrow (damn this limited computer access!)

And Lily - 'ELEVENTY-ONE!11one!1!' Heheheh.

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Five_

_Confusion_

Yelan watched, smiling, as slowly, ever so slowly, Sakura returned Syaoran's embrace.

…

"What the hell was _that_?" Syaoran demanded of his reflection when he was back in the master bedroom later. His face looked back at him from the mirror of Sakura's vanity table; the imitation of his eyes looked exactly as confused as he felt.

He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair and paced up and down the room, before flopping on the bed, sprawling himself out and sighing. He just didn't understand.

_Maybe I really am going insane._

He'd been madly in lust just that morning, for Christ's sake, and then, just now… He was pretty sure he'd been feeling something different, even if he didn't know exactly what it was. So was he in lust with her, or…

No, he refused even to _entertain _the other possibility.

Perhaps it had just been a weird occurrence, a one-off blip caused by the fragrance of whatever stupid shampoo she used. He wouldn't be so idiotic next time, he was sure of it. He was ready for whatever ridiculous thoughts his mind might try to freak him out with.

Feeling slightly more confident, he opened the bedroom door and walked out onto the landing and down the stairs.

He spotted Sakura in the kitchen, doing the washing-up from breakfast. She was still wearing his shirt, but her hair was curling damply against her neck – clearly she had been in the shower and just thrown on the nearest garment to her when she got out. She was singing again, merrily and at the top of her voice.

Her back was to him as she worked at the sink, but she turned to the doorway suddenly and spotted him. Her hands were wet, with fluffy soapsuds to her elbows as she clutched a wet plate – the one he had used, he recognised the pattern. She smiled brightly at him, and his chest clenched almost painfully.

There really were only two words for it, he thought – _oh. Crap._

…

"Mail for you, Xiao darling," Yelan said almost lazily as she stooped to pick up the envelopes that had fallen onto the hall carpet with a soft thud. Syaoran blinked – his mother must have been in a good mood, to be calling him by the nickname she only used when she was feeling fond towards him.

"Probably just bills," Syaoran said dismissively as his mother flicked idly through the envelopes.

"Oh," she said suddenly, upon happening on an envelope that was smaller than the others, and the address on it was hand-written in flowing black cursive, "this one doesn't look like a bill."

Syaoran's brow furrowed as he took the proffered envelope from his mother. He examined it, taking the expensive stationary.

"I wonder…" he said, then he caught sight of the water-color effect design of a bride and groom on the back of the letter, and he understood.

"Sakura!" he called, and when he heard his wife reply in the affirmative, he continued. "I think this is an invitation to Arisa-san and Kenji-san's wedding!"

"Oh!" Sakura replied, sounding excited. He could hear her footsteps coming from the kitchen.

"They're the nice couple that were at your wedding?" Yelan attempted to clarify. Syaoran nodded.

"Oh," she continued, smiling. "Well, that's lovely. You two will be looking forward to the wedding, then, no doubt."

Sakura had drawn to a halt beside them and smiled at Syaoran.

"Well, go on, open it! Thanks for calling me, by the way," she added as a grateful afterthought.

As an answer, Syaoran tore the envelope delicately, loathe to destroy the pretty stationery, which had no doubt cost a fortune. After all, he knew all about the ridiculous expense of weddings, after his and Sakura's lavish nuptials. He winced with pity for Honda-san and Kenji-san, who he thought were too young to go through the horrid expense of a wedding.

The paper inside was a beautiful invitation bearing all the necessary details of the wedding, such as location, date, etc. A feature of the invitation that Sakura loved was that the envelope was stuffed with rose petals and glittery pieces of confetti in various sweet shapes, such as wedding bells and doves, which fell out of the envelope along with the invite and landed on the carpet, making the otherwise plain color glitter.

As well as the invitation, there was enclosed a short note from Honda-san herself. Sakura grabbed it eagerly, and began to read out loud for Syaoran's benefit.

_To Li-san and, um, Li-san /grin,_

_I know when we saw you at your wedding we said that our wedding would be next summer, but we decided to move it up - I mean, everyone talks about wanting to be a June bride, but I thought it would be cool to be a January bride! We're getting married on New Year's Day, because I thought it would be romantic - you know, it's the dawn of a new year, and what better way to start it than by getting married, right? Initially I wanted Christmas Day, but Kenji rightly pointed out that that might have inconvenienced some of our guests, and I didn't want to do that. I want as many people as possible to come, because I want everyone I care about to be there._

_Oh, I'm babbling, aren't I? I'm sorry - I'm in total wedding hysteria at the moment, but I guess you two know all about that. I just can't believe the wedding's coming up so soon! You know, I've never had more respect for people who go through with these things – they're an absolute nightmare! How did you two cope? Did you hire a planner?_

_I hope you're doing well, and that you're as happy now as you were on your wedding day. I really hope you can come to the wedding. Oh, I better go – Kenji has been bombarded with flower samples from the florist and the poor dear looks completely bamboozled! I better go rescue him!_

_Love,_

_Honda Arisa._

"So totally Honda-san," Syaoran said with a fond smile when Sakura had finished reading.

"It's great to hear from them," Sakura said, a beam on her face too, "and the wedding's in just two months! It will be just lovely to see them again. She sounds so happy and excited. I'm glad. "

Syaoran nodded, his eyes somewhat distant. _We'll still be married at that point_, he thought to himself, for no reason in particular.

…

"We'll see you later tonight, Mother," Syaoran said to Yelan as he, Sakura and Yelan stood in the hall. Syaoran and Sakura were dressed for work and the cold weather, carrying work materials and wrapped up with scarves.

Yelan happily accepted a kiss on the cheek from her son and smiled benignly at Sakura, who was looking concerned.

"Will you be okay all by yourself all day?" Sakura asked Yelan. "I mean, you might be bored or lonely," she clarified.

Yelan shook her head.

"Now, don't worry on my account! I'll be completely and utterly fine. I'm sure I'll find something to occupy myself with," she said reassuringly.

Syaoran was sure that the gleam in her eyes said, very clearly, that she was going to 'occupy herself' by cleaning the house from top to bottom. He sighed heavily. He just didn't understand his mother – she could amuse herself by lounging on the sofa and laughing over moronic people on daytime talk shows, but instead she was going to _willingly _subject herself to what Syaoran would regard as the bane of his life – cleaning.

"I still feel guilty at leaving you here by yourself!" Sakura exclaimed helplessly. Yelan smiled and hugged her 'daughter'.

"You really are a very caring young lady, Sakura," she said, smiling. She released the younger woman and smiled again.

"Now, go off to work, and do stop worrying!" she said, grinning. "It's only one day, I'll be fine!"

Yelan almost had to shove a still-uncertain Sakura out the door.

…

_Are we going to talk about it? _Sakura wondered to herself as she sat in her chair at her desk, idly chewing on a pen lid and staring out the window at the pallid sky. _Or just pretend it never happened?_

She glanced over at her husband, who was frowning at his computer screen and tapping furiously at his keys. Sakura's shoes were lying discarded under his desk, and, for some reason, she got a warm feeling in her chest seeing them there, with him. Her favourite pair of scarlet ballet pumps (an idiotic choice for work, she knew, but she just loved them and _had _to wear them today, for some reason) lying beside his - and this was a stupid description, she knew, but accurate - big man feet in their sturdy, sensible office shoes.

She sighed again and reverted her attention to the window. A lone bird flapped its way across the sky as she watched, and she wondered idly if it was lost.

She had to address this, she knew, no matter how uncomfortable it made her. She _had _to get to the bottom of the funny feeling she got in her chest sometimes when he was around.

She began to tap her pen against the surface of her desk in a fast, irritated manner. Syaoran glanced up at her.

"Everything alright, Dearest?" he asked, returning his eyes to his work as he spoke. Sakura spun away from the window to look at him. As she watched, he regarded his screen with a confused look, and punched experimentally at a few keys. Sakura could tell that whatever he had attempted hadn't worked, as he pulled a face and stuck his tongue out at the screen in a highly mature fashion. She giggled softly to herself.

_It's times like these that I get that damn _feeling, she thought to herself suddenly. _I just want to give him a hug._

"I guess," she answered finally, but Syaoran's interest was piqued and he looked up. (Well, it no doubt had something to do with the fact that his computer was being perplexing to the point that he couldn't bear to look at it any longer, but Sakura appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.)

"Are you sure?" he asked probingly.

_No, if I'm truthful, I'm not okay_, Sakura thought to herself. _And you could make it better, you know. Do you want to talk about what the hell that _was _this morning? Do you want to explain why you held me that way, like… Like I was special to you? No, no, in fact, it was like I was _THE _most special person to you. Did you even realise what you were doing? How unfair you were being? _

_Do you realise how you made me _feel_, in just that damn split second?_

Sakura wasn't prone to sudden bursts of anger, however righteous, and when they did happen to her, they never lasted long. So, after her outburst in her head, she calmed down almost immediately.

_Do you want to tell me what this _feeling _is? Can you tell me? It's wonderful and terrible all at the same time, and I think it's because of you._

But there was no venom in the thoughts, and she shrugged under her husband's scrutinising gaze.

"There's nothing wrong? You're _absolutely sure_?" he asked again.

_Yes, there's something wrong._

"Yes, there's something wrong," she said without thinking, and she blinked in surprise the moment the words were out of her mouth. _I didn't mean to say that!_

Syaoran sighed.

"I knew there was. Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No!" Sakura blurted quickly before her stupid brain could make her say something more truthful. Immediately Syaoran looked uncomfortable.

"Oh, is it a girl thing? Maybe you'd rather talk to Tomoyo-san, I understand…" he said, blushing. Sakura rolled her eyes.

"No, it isn't a girl thing!" she said, and then she paused. She'd just had an idea, but it was a fully moronic one. She bit her lip as she considered whether she dared voice it.

"Syaoran?" she said finally, and he nodded at her in response. _Yes? _He seemed to say. _Whatever it is, I'll help._

She got up out of her chair.

"Come here," she said, and Syaoran looked confused.

"I don't see -" he began, looking hesitant, but Sakura shook her head firmly.

"Come here," she repeated, more insistently this time, in a tone of voice that replied there was no room for arguments.

Helplessly, Syaoran complied, taking a few steps towards her, stopping a few feet in front of her.

"Closer," she instructed, and in a heartbeat he was there, and they were almost touching. They regarded each other steadily.

Sakura's heart was going crazy, beating a frantic frenzy against her ribcage. She looked into big amber eyes, and he blinked them slowly at her, long eyelashes, like fine silk, surely too long and thick for a male's, descending slowly and ascending with equally exquisite slowness.

She could see herself reflected in his eyes, looking uncertain and confused.

"Now," she said, her voice shuddering along the words as she desperately tried to moisten her suddenly-dry mouth, "I hate this term, it's corny, but - hold me. Please."

All too suddenly, his arms, his warm, strong arms, were around her, catching her in an embrace that was caressing and soft and delicate. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her lips a hair's breadth from the skin of his neck, the familiar scent of warmth and peppermint and freshly-mown grass and that indefinable scent that was just Syaoran swirling in her head, making her dizzy.

He sighed into her hair, and she never wanted the moment to end.

Sometimes experiments bring the results you don't want to see.

…

A.N. This chapter did NOT want to be written. It kicked and screamed and fought me the whole way. /Sigh/ I finally managed to drag it to its end after a hell of a battle.

_Next chapter: Yelan's second (and last) day with her son and daughter-in-law draws to a close. Also, it's Yuri's birthday. And Syaoran dreams, and worries about it._

Shattered Midnight Dreams…zzz…

Because mine is a dream that was lost in a breeze - life's like that sometimes…


	6. Tell Me What They Are

_The insane musings of the authoress: _NOTE -As you will probably notice upon reading through, this chapter is in the present tense. Simply because it works better that way. I tried to resist the temptation to change tense as I usually write in the past, but I was writing the Ueda/Yuri parts of this chapter, and doing it in the past was making my eyes water, because I just couldn't help but think how much prettier it would be in the present.

I realise I'm being weird here, and probably most of you will be like, 'so!' But for the people who may be slightly thrown off by the change, I thought I'd explain myself.

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Six_

_Tell Me What They Are_

"Yuri-san," he says softly, her name somehow rolling off his tongue like a question rather than a statement. She starts violently, slopping hot coffee over the sides of her mug. The brown liquid makes a path over her pale fingers and pools on the surface of her desk. She watches it drip slowly, dark eyes drinking in the ripples in the pool of rich brown as each droplet falls and ruffles the surface for just a moment.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" he apologises immediately. He looks at her fingers, fearing desperately that they are burned but not knowing what to do.

"Your fingers…" he says finally, another question that isn't.

"They're okay." An answer to a question that he hadn't quite asked.

She smiles at him and lets go of her mug to display her fingers to him.

"See?" she asks, waggling them. "They're not burned. Wet, yes, but burned, no. Fortunately."

She gives him another smile, and he remembers himself suddenly.

"I'll get you some tissues," he promises, hurrying off. _So much for being cool_, he thinks to himself.

…

"Toilet paper," he says, blushing as he hands it to her, "was the only thing I could find. I hope it's okay."

She shakes her head, smiling again.

"It's fine, it's fine. So long as it'll mop up the coffee, I don't care _what _it is," she says, shrugging as she wraps the toilet paper around her wet fingers.

"I'm really, _really _sorry about that, again," he feels the need to apologise once more. She waves her toilet-paper-accessorized hand.

"It's _alright_. Okay, you startled me, but it was an accident. Anyway, what did you want? Is something the matter?" she asks, suddenly serious.

Ueda has to admit that it would certainly seem that way – usually he wouldn't interrupt Yuri's mid-morning coffee break for anything less than an emergency, because he likes to see her relax and he knows how much the break means to her.

However, today he had wanted to get her alone at her desk, and her break seemed the perfect opportunity.

"Er… It's your birthday, right?" he asks. Yuri looks surprised at that, but nods. Ueda notices that there are birthday cards all over her desk – co-workers must have been wishing her a happy birthday all morning.

"Well," he begins, lifting the bunch of violets from underneath the chair he's sitting on, where he'd stowed them, "happy birthday."

Her face lights up when he produces the flowers, holding them out to her bashfully, like a little boy handing a single daisy to his secret crush in the middle of the playground.

"Thank you so much!" she exclaims, immediately burying her nose in them and inhaling deeply with a serene expression.

"They- they reminded me of you," he says sincerely, his voice stumbling a little over the words.

"They're my favourite flowers," she replies.

Ueda muses that she looks so beautiful, just there, with the sunlight streaming in from the window behind her and illuminating her shoulder-length dark hair. She looks so happy to have received the armful of vivid violets that her dark brown eyes are lit up, flickers of purple dancing in among the rich chocolate color of her irises, reflected from the bright flowers.

"I wanted to get you something else as well, but I just couldn't decide what to get for you, and so the flowers are all I have to give," he explains. _And my heart_, he thinks suddenly. _All I have to give are the flowers and my heart. I know they're not enough._

Everything wouldn't be enough, for her.

She keeps smiling at him, and in his eyes it is a coaxing smile, it says to him, 'now, you're hiding things from me, aren't you? Tell me what they are.'

Tell me what they are.

"Heart," he blurts, without meaning to. He winces immediately; it's the fault of that smile of hers. Her brow wrinkles at him, confused, but still smiling, albeit in a bewildered manner.

It suddenly dawns on him that he should leave, preferably right away, because she'd have him spouting goddamn love poetry next.

"What was that?" she asks finally, pleasantly, sensing (correctly) that simply looking at him with a politely confused expression isn't going to draw forth an explanation. He blinks, and wonders if he could possibly just pretend he hadn't heard the question.

Probably not.

_My love is like a red, red rose…_

He chuckles, and Yuri continues to look confused.

"Don't worry about it," he says, getting up. He wants to ruffle her hair, for some reason.

"Happy birthday," he says instead. And he leaves.

…

"You seem to be in an uncharacteristically bad mood, dearest Sakura," Syaoran says observationally.

They are very strenuously NOT TALKING about what happened earlier.

"That's possibly because I _am_," she replies.

"Care to share why?" he asks, somewhat cautiously. She sighs. There are two reasons why, but she's only going to divulge one of them. One of the reasons is because her little experiment earlier did not wield the results she wanted - just being close to him makes her heart hammer, but examining the reasons why this could possibly be makes her head hurt.

So she tells him the other reason.

"I don't think they're ever going to get on with it, sometimes," she says hopelessly. "I mean, I thought reminding him of her birthday would do it, but…"

She shrugs, and he wants to hug her.

Instead, he swallows and says, "what do you mean?"

"Well, I thought he'd tell her how he feels as part of her birthday present, but I was passing her office earlier, and I was talking to her. She had a bouquet of violets in a vase on her desk, I said they were pretty and I asked her who'd given them to her, and she said it was Ueda-san. And yes, there was that usual soft look in her eyes when she said his name, but I don't think he told her."

Syaoran's brow furrows.

"Wait, what was it about that exchange that told you so obviously that Ueda didn't tell her his feelings?" he asks.

"Because," she turns sad eyes on him, "there was still that gleam of hopeless longing in her eyes."

Syaoran doesn't know what to say to that.

…

"I'm leaving now," Syaoran says to Sakura just before lunch. She checks her watch, and frowns.

"And not a moment too soon," she remarks, "Yelan-san's plane leaves in an hour."

"You can stop looking so disapproving!" he says, laughing at her expression. "It's not like you reminded me earlier."

Sakura blushes and says, flustered, "well, I was working!"

"So was I!" he says, laughing.

She fetches his scarf for him as he pulls his coat on, and she mutters something that sounds suspiciously like 'you're infuriating sometimes' as she winds the scarf around his neck for him.

He smiles at her and says, "don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, and don't forget that you have to go to that meeting in a half-hour."

"I know, I know," she says. She reaches up and kisses him on the cheek.

"Now get going, or your mother will miss her flight," she says, and he grins, says goodbye, and disappears.

Syaoran is half-way down the stairs when he realises that Sakura kissed him.

And he's in his car when he realises he almost said, "I love you" with his goodbye.

…

"Thank you so much for having me to stay with you, Xiao Lang," Yelan says to him in the departures lounge, just after the final call to board her flight sounds. Syaoran manages to pull himself out of his distracted state long enough to smile genuinely at her.

"I'm sorry you're leaving," he says.

"Me too," she says, then frowns. "I do wish Sakura-san could have come to the airport with us."

She thinks on this for a second, then shrugs and says, "oh well, some things can't be helped, I know. Tell her thanks you for having me, and I hope to see her again very, very soon."

She smiles brightly and points to her cheek. Syaoran rolls his eyes at the prompt, but obediently kisses her cheek. She turns away from him, towards the gate, and waves blindly towards him, not turning around as she walks away.

"Christmas!" Syaoran calls after her, suddenly struck with the idea. "You can come back around Christmas, can't you?"

She smiles and nods, clearly pleased to have been invited, and then she's gone. Syaoran wishes she wasn't leaving. She'd probably be able to make sense of the weird feelings Sakura gives him.

_If _he had been allowed to tell her of them, of course.

He chuckles mirthlessly as he imagines himself saying to his mother, "I'm thinking about the 'L' word around Sakura."

She would probably say, "well, I be worried if you weren't."

…

Sakura thinks of Syaoran's words from earlier, more than a little guiltily, as she writes the final word on the second note.

_Don't do anything stupid._

But this isn't her being _stupid_; this is her being _helpful_!

Right?

Okay, so maybe, truthfully, she isn't sure which it is.

She re-reads the two notes quickly. They each say something to the tone of, _'come and meet me later.' _She wrinkles her nose. This little set-up of hers has massive backfire capability, and she can hear Syaoran's words ringing in her ears.

_Don't do anything stupid._

She sighs deeply and casts the notes another longing look. She wants to so _badly_… It's just a simple matter of putting one on Yuri's desk and one on Ueda's, and that would possibly be the whole thing solved. She looks at them once more and bites her lip, her mind made up.

…

When he lies down on the couch after coming home from leaving Yelan at the airport, Syaoran promises himself he won't fall asleep. In fact, he doesn't realise he has fallen asleep until he falls off the couch after a particularly startling dream, and awakes upon hitting the floor.

He sits up and shoves a shaking hand through his hair. What does it mean? Possibly he just has an overactive imagination, but it is equally as possible that he… That he…

He really needs to talk to someone about this, he decides. But who? He's only got a choice between three people - Sakura, Tomoyo and Eriol.

When it comes to this sort of thing, he can immediately rule Sakura out, which leaves Tomoyo and Eriol.

On the one hand, this is the sort of thing Tomoyo would be good at, and she was like another sister to him - he wouldn't feel weird, he didn't think, telling her this.

On the other hand, she might treat this as some sort of epiphany on his part, and start being a total girl about it - get hearts in her eyes and proclaim madly about how she _knew _he loved Sakura (oh, the word 'love' made him shudder, even just thinking about it).

When of course he didn't love her. He was just confused.

This left Eriol. Eriol, Syaoran reflected, was the sanest choice - they got on well together, talking about baseball, basketball, movies and occasionally commiserating each other on how weird their other halves were.

And Eriol, at least, would treat this like it was - not as an excuse to blow everything all out of proportion and start accusing him of being In Love (with the unspoken capitalisation he knew Tomoyo-san would give the term).

Proud of himself for at least managing to make one decision, he sat down at Sakura's computer and began to compose an email describing his plight.

…

Yuri had stepped out of her office to leave off her final reports of the day to the main office, and she was extremely surprised to spy, on her return, a little note lying on her desk. It's just a small, nondescript scrap of paper, nothing exciting. It clearly has writing on it, and, feeling curious, she unfolds it.

_Meet me at the door of the building at 5:30 P.M. today. I've realised something that I'm not sure I didn't secretly know all along._

She frowns, confuses, and looks for a signature, but there wasn't one. _I've realised something… _Who could it be?

…

_To: himitsudesu(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_From: lonewolf(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_Subject: Weird Dream_

Eriol-san,

Hope I'm not bothering you, but I have a problem.

I know you're probably going to hate being asked to give an opinion on something of this nature, but I couldn't think who else to ask.

See, I've been feeling weird around Sakura lately. I assumed it would go away by itself, but it's been getting worse.

The thing that's really got me worried was the dream I had today. There were these three little children running around a backyard – two little girls and a little boy. It was a sunny day - they were wearing swimsuits and splashing in one of those little inflatable paddling pools that small children often have.

Then I realised that it was mine and Sakura's backyard, and I looked closely at the children – one of the girls was an absolute miniature of Sakura, and the little boy bore a striking resemblance to me, while the other little girl looked like me as well.

Then I could see myself and Sakura, suddenly joining the children, dressed in swimsuits as well. I realised that the children were chasing after a huge dog that was covered in soap suds, and Sakura was holding a hose and laughing helplessly.

Then I woke up, and I realised I'd just dreamt about Sakura and I spending a summer afternoon bathing the family dog with _our children_. And I was properly freaked out.

Listen, I know you're not a dream interpreter or an agony aunt or anything, but I had to tell someone about it. I know people dream about all sorts of very strange things, like killer vegetables and turning up naked to work, so it probably means nothing.

But if I'm honest, I wanted a second opinion.

Syaoran

…

_To: lonewolf(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_From: himitsudesu(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_Subject: Thanks for making me spit coffee all over my keyboard_

Oh. Dear.

We need to talk. Soon. Are you at home? Can I come over? It's my lunchbreak, so I could sneak away for an hour.

Eriol

…

_To: hitmitsudesu(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_From: lonewolf(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_Subject: Now you got me worried_

That bad, huh?

Yes, I'm home. Worrying, now. Thanks for being so reassuring and telling me I was just being crazy.

Syaoran

…

_To: lonewolf(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_From: himitsudesu(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_Subject: It's what I do_

I'm coming right now.

Eriol

…

A.N. The manner in which the events in this chapter are unfolding means that I could have wrapped them all up in one chapter that spanned another thousand words or so. Unfortunately, I frankly don't have the time to be writing mammoth chapters like that at the moment, and so you have to make do with this chapter ending in a strange place.

**Something else you all need to know and a special request:**

****

**I WOULD LIKE TO ASK EVERYONE TO PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTES FROM NOW ON! I realise they're not perhaps the most interesting things, and I know people often want to race on and read the chapter, but I would please, please request that you read them. It might be an idea, if you are the impatient type, to go ahead and read the chapter and then come back and read the author's notes.**

****

**I say this because I still have people reading the first arc of 'Butterflies' and reviewing to say 'why haven't you updated in so long!' I. MADE. A. SECOND. ARC. And I warned everyone profusely IN MY AUTHOR'S NOTES that I was going to do it. THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR THIS SORT OF THING! ARGH!**

****

**I'm sorry for yelling, but it's really, really frustrating for me when people say things like that. Sometimes I end up repeating things several times in author's notes for different chapters just because people don't bother to read the notes. People ask me the same questions over and over because they don't read the notes.**

****

**I should have tackled this issue earlier, I know, but at least you all know where I stand on the issue now. Please, please read the notes - sometimes there are important things in them. Do if for the sake of my sanity, if nothing else.**

****

**Anyway, here is the thing you all needed to know (this is the sort of important thing I sometimes put into author's notes) - updates MAY be a little wobbly for the next few months.**

**/Shattered winces as everyone reacts in horror - _MONTHS/ _**

****

**Yes, I know that sounds terribly bleak, but I have exams in early May, and I have about four hundred pages of notes (Biology, Chemistry, Physics and Maths, four of my worst subjects, to be exact) to learn for them, so I have to start studying now.**

**Then I have MORE exams in early June, so as soon as I stop revising for the May ones I have to start studying for the June ones, which are pretty formidable, too.**

**Add that to all the homework I get already, and… Let's just say that the next few months are probably going to be pretty excruciating for me. I won't be done with exams until mid-June.**

**This is just a very precautionary warning, I'm not saying that I'm going to completely abandon the fic or anything. I'm just saying, don't be surprised if I turn out slightly shorter chapters or start sometimes updating once every two weeks or something.**

_Shattered Midnight Dreams…_

_Mine is a dream that was lost in a breeze, because life's like that sometimes…_


	7. Everybody Do The Mop Waltz!

_The insane musings of the authoress: _I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! I've been burning in exam hell recently (in fact I still am, until mid-June) and chapter seven proved troublesome anyway. It really, really REALLY did not want to be written and gave me hell.

_Special thanks to: _All the reviewers. Thanks for being understanding about my exams and for being patient. Again, I'm sorry for the wait.

_Extra-special thanks to: _The usual suspects (sorry, I'm running out of time at the moment). **Sylphie****, I'm so sorry I haven't been replying to your mails! I just have absolutely no time at the moment. I hope the play went okay, and I love you lots!**

_Disclaimer: _CCS is not mine.

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Seven_

_Everybody Do The Mop-Waltz!_

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee, maybe?" Syaoran asked Eriol as the latter removed his coat and scarf in the hall of the Li residence. Eriol shook his head in response and said dryly, "no thanks. I don't trust myself to drink coffee around you at the moment."

"Ha ha ha," Syaoran said, equally as dry. "Come in and sit down, then. Thanks for coming at such short notice."

Eriol waved a hand.

"What's with the formalities? Besides, there's no need to thank me for anything - I was the one who decided to come down here, remember?"

Syaoran shrugged.

"I guess it's Sakura's influence," he said. "And you only came down here because you deemed this dream to be so important," he felt it necessary to point out.

Syaoran could have sworn he saw Eriol's eyes gleam at the mention of it. Syaoran gulped, and he wasn't entirely sure anymore that Tomoyo-san wouldn't have been a better choice for this.

"Ah yes," Eriol said, grinning as he patted down his dark hair, windswept out of shape by the November gale, "the dream."

If Syaoran didn't know better, he would have thought, judging by the tone of Eriol's voice, that he was enjoying this.

"Er, yeah," Syaoran said uncomfortably, "that. So, what do you think? What was it about it that made you feel the need to spit coffee all over your keyboard and then hurry down here?"

"Well," Eriol said slowly, taking his time and eyeing Syaoran, clearly amused, as the other man waited eagerly for an answer.

Eriol sighed. "I think, after a thorough analysis, that you looooooooove Sakura and want to maaaaaaaaaaarry her (well, you want to stay married to her, then, since you've already got married) and want to have babies with her and be with her every day and live happily ever after, like in a fairy tale!"

Syaoran choked on apparently nothing at this, then attempted to recover by raising a cool, dignified eyebrow.

"You got all that from _one dream_? What were you _drinking _during that "analysis"?" he exclaimed. Eriol grinned wickedly, and something dawned on Syaoran. _Damn it, he _is _enjoying this, the bastard!_

"Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that this is just the icing on the cake," Eriol said thoughtfully. "I mean, both Tomoyo and I have had suspicions for _months_ -" (at this point Syaoran spluttered '_months_? Couldn't you have pointed it out to me earlier?'' but was ignored) "we supposed it was only a matter of time, really."

Eriol sighed at Syaoran's expression.

"You still don't believe you love her, do you?" he asked. Syaoran nodded fiercely.

"It was just a weird dream!" he insisted.

Eriol sighed again.

"Look at this way," he said to Syaoran, "you've been feeling 'weird' about her lately, haven't you? How exactly have you felt?"

"Well," Syaoran began, "I've sort of been blushing around her and started doing really strange things like hugging her just so I can smell her hair, I've been getting worried about her, going almost frantic when she cries, I've started really appreciating it when she sings… I've been noticing afresh just how beautiful she is and how funny, how sweet and kind, how cute she looks when she'd mad, how she always forgives me - oh."

He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening. Eriol resisted the urge to smack his hand against his forehead. How dense could someone be? It was only registering _now _what was going on?

"_And_," he continued, but now his voice was becoming louder with conviction as he realised what all this meant, "there are times when she's sitting on the couch next to me and I just want to - "

Eriol grinned again, wriggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, "pounce on her?"

Syaoran blushed again and coughed.

"If you're going to be blunt, then yes," he said.

"And you don't remember when her skin got that soft, and when she's in your arms you never want to let her go, because you feel that that is where she belongs. And when you're in a crowded room together, she smiles at you and it feels like you're the only two people in the world. When she's not there your mind wanders to where she is, you hope she's okay and you think about her voice and her smile. She's the most beautiful creature you've ever laid eyes on, the thought of her makes you smile at apparently nothing all the time. You don't think you could breathe or think or _be_ without her, and the thought of her being hurt or leaving you makes you feel physically sick. I could go on, but I won't because I think I've successfully proved my point," Eriol said, almost lazily.

Syaoran's eyes widened.

"How did you _know _that?" he asked, bewildered.

Suddenly, Eriol's mood switched - he was no longer smirking and joking, he was serious and looked as though he felt sorry for Syaoran.

"That's exactly how I feel about Tomoyo," he said. Syaoran looked terrified and ran his hand through his hair agitatedly.

"That dream," he began, for some reason somewhat breathless, "that's what I want, isn't it? That's what I secretly want."

Eriol stayed silent as Syaoran flopped back against the back of the sofa, eyes still wide.

"I've fallen in love, haven't I?" he asked Eriol with a strange, rueful smile. Eriol patted him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"Happens to the best of us," he said.

…

"I'm going home!" Sakura sang happily to herself as she shut down her computer. Her watch had just hit five thirty P.M., so she was leaving perhaps a little _too _on time, but she figured she could make it up another time.

The office wasn't the same without Syaoran, and if she was honest, she couldn't wait to be where he was.

…

It was stupid, Ueda knew, but he wanted to ask Yuri who she was waiting for when he saw her in the lobby, near the doors. He was hovering in the shadows, watching her and trying to get up his courage to finally go over to her. He went over in his mind what he had said in the note - _I've realised something that I'm not sure I didn't secretly know all along._

That was the truth.

It was a stupid question because she was waiting for him, and he knew it. Even if she didn't.

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows. Yuri looked up at him and beamed, and his heart beat faster as a tiny thrill of hope ran through him.

He opened his mouth to speak.

…

"Syaoran!" Sakura chirped cheerfully as she came through the door, immediately setting herself to the task of unwinding her long scarf from around her neck.

"Welcome home, Sakura," she heard Syaoran call from the kitchen. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but his voice sounded strange.

After slipping off her coat, she followed her nose to the kitchen, from where an appetizing smell was wafting, almost making her drool. She stepped over the threshold of the room and was immediately assaulted by a scent explosion so strong that she practically began to slaver.

"What are you cooking?" she asked Syaoran as she stared greedily at the dish gently simmering on the stove.

"Chicken casserole," he replied from his position kneeling in front of the stove, his back turned to her. There was a tea towel thrown over one of his shoulders.

"It should be ready in about five minutes," he continued as he turned around slowly and stood up. He was wearing her pink apron, and the sight gave Sakura a strange feeling, deep in her chest.

"You're an angel!" she exclaimed happily, pushing the feeling aside for examination later on and rushing forward to embrace him in the meantime. She smiled as she buried her face in his chest and hugged him tightly. Syaoran blinked, taken aback by a moment by the sudden rush of affection, then patted her head, bemused.

"You're in a good mood," he remarked. She nodded, and he could feel it.

"I am," she agreed. ((_It's because I'm where you are))_

"I'm glad," he said sincerely. _((I'm so glad you're here, because I'm not home unless I am where you are. You make it home.))_

They didn't move for a few seconds. Syaoran closed his eyes and let his cheek rest against the softness of her hair, and let out his breath in a long exhale.

When he breathed in again, the air smelt like her shampoo.

They both thought the same thing at the same time - _don't move, I want to stay like this._

_I want to stay like this_

And they didn't move.

…

"Are you waiting for someone, Yuri-san?"

She looked surprised for a moment, but quickly regained her balance. She tucked a strand of errant hair behind her ear as she spoke, "why yes, I am, actually."

She gazed at him evenly, and he looked back. Ueda was certain the inevitable question was resting on the tip of her tongue, _how did you know I was waiting,_ but she didn't ask it.

She didn't do anything but look at him.

_You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen_, he thought.

"Ueda-san," she began, and then stopped as abruptly as she had begun. _Has she worked it out? Has she put the final piece of the puzzle into the right place?_

_Does she know that I'm the one she's waiting for? _

"I'm - I'm the one you're waiting for," he said in a rush, and bit his lip when he was done. God, his palms were sweating - he felt like a nervous little fifteen-year-old again, trying to ask out the most beautiful girl in school.

She smiled and her whole face lit up in the process.

"I know," she said simply. "I've been waiting for you ever since I first met you."

_That's somewhat comforting. _"So…" he began, and scratched the back of his head nervously.

"So…" she teased, and he pulled an annoyed face at her, to which she laughed heartily.

"Would you like to come to dinner with me?" he asked. _((I love you I love you I love you I really do…))_

"When?" she asked.

"Tonight," he said. _No point in waiting._

"Tonight," she repeated, rolling the word around on her tongue. It felt good, to be making dinner plans with him.

Ueda continued to look at her, and let the realisation that he wanted to tell her he loved her or kiss her roll over him. Even though he knew neither was appropriate, he liked the warm feeling that settled in his chest when he thought about the fact that he would be able to do both of those things in the future.

She looked at him almost slyly with soft brown eyes and he colored immediately. Damn it, when she looked at him like that he always got the eerie feeling that she could read his thoughts.

"I'll give you my number," she said, smiling almost distractedly as she began to rifle through her bag for a pen and piece of paper.

Ueda blinked, having been jolted back to reality.

"Oh, and I'll give you mine," he said suddenly, shoving his hands into his pockets in a desperate search for writing equipment.

Yuri laughed softly.

"Don't worry, I'll lend you a pen and a piece of paper," she said as she finished scribbling down her number and handed the items in question over to him. He scrawled the numbers down in his typical untidy handwriting and they exchanged slips of paper.

"I'll call you tonight," he promised. "I'll come pick you up for dinner."

She grinned. "Sounds great."

He looked awkwardly at his hands for a minute, then up at her. Quickly, on a split-second decision, he swooped and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her cheek.

"Right then," he said, flushing absurdly over such a little thing, "I'll see you tonight." He nodded briskly, once, and began to walk towards the doors.

Yuri smiled after him. The skin of her cheek tingled.

"He asked me out!" she exclaimed happily as soon as she was sure he had completely vacated the building. "He asked me out AND he kissed me!"

She ran over to where a dry mop was standing in a bucket, propped against the wall, left by one of the cleaning staff, and began an impromptu celebratory/victory dance with it, laughing as she 'waltzed' with it across the floor.

"He asked me out! He kissed me!"

"Indeed I did," came the dry, amused response. Yuri froze, horrified, and turned slowly to the source of the voice. When she saw that it was indeed who it had to be, she felt as if she could die on the spot. Several times.

Ueda smirked at her. She swallowed and tried desperately to think of something to say. The silence enveloping them extended.

"I forgot my car keys," Ueda explained, still smirking.

"Ah," she said finally, her voice unnaturally high-pitched as she proceeded to die of acute embarrassment. If there had been a way in which she could have melted down through the floor and out of sight, she would have done it without a second thought.

He turned to walk back up the stairs to his office. Yuri had to give him credit – he hadn't laughed at her. Yet.

She stood in the empty lobby, looking at the doors, not moving as she listened to his footsteps fade away.

He returned five minutes later, car keys jangling merrily in his hand as he walked.

"I'll call you later, for dinner," he promised again, and there was laughter in his eyes. She nodded, and he began to walk towards the doors again.

She bit her lip and called impulsively to him, "Ueda-san, wait!"

He turned back to her, stopping just short of the doors and she moved quickly towards him, crossing the floor space between them in just a few steps.

"Yes, Yuri-san?" he asked her patiently, a perplexed eyebrow raised questioningly at her. She chewed on her lip for a second more and didn't answer, choosing to look at her shoes. Finally she raised her head to let her eyes meet his and then, as if this would be easier to do quickly than slowly, in one swift move she raised herself on to her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck as he lowered his head instinctively.

She pressed her lips to his, almost experimentally and tentatively at first, then more bravely as he made a pleased (if slightly surprised) noise and stole his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She tried to keep her eyes open, but his kiss made them cross, so they fell closed as she leaned into him.

Her mouth opened and his quickly followed suit. She moved her tongue against his gently, just once, and then darted away, breaking his lax hold on her easily to stand just a few steps away.

He stood and blinked stupidly at her, his hands suspended in the air where they had previously been around her waist. His mouth was hanging open and she couldn't resist the urge to make comparisons with goldfish in her head. It took all she had not to giggle.

Finally he seemed to come to with a start.

"R-right," he said, shoving a hand backwards through his hair. She waited for him to speak again, but he seemed to have forgotten what he was going to say.

"I'm guessing you would be going to go home at this point?" she suggested gently, a twinkle of laughter in her eyes. (It was at this point that Yuri was forced to think that she must be better at kissing than she had previously thought she was.)

He nodded rapidly at that and said, "yes, right. Home. I'll – I'll see you later tonight."

He turned on his heel with a goofy smile and took a step forward…

… only to immediately slam into the glass doors.

Yuri finally let herself laugh as he fell to the floor.

"Oh my God," she said, laughing heartily as she knelt down beside him where he lay, "I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

Ueda grinned.

"You're not sorry at all, you… You… Minx!" he said finally, laughing as well. "This was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it?"

Yuri tried – and failed – to look coy and innocent.

"I am not falling for that look," he said good-naturedly. "But I suppose I deserved that," he said fairly. Yuri nodded in agreement, a grin again creeping on to her face.

"But I'm sure you'll agree," he murmured as he raised himself onto his knees so that he could face Yuri, "that you deserve to be punished."

Yuri's heart beat faster as he leaned towards her.

…

The next day, at work, Ueda and Yuri will wonder why everybody in the building – even the _security guards_, for heaven's sake! – seems to be grinning at some sort of private joke whenever they are around.

… that is, of course, until they see the CCTV tape, complete with Yuri's mop-waltzing and Ueda's crashing into the doors, which has been passed around the building.

…

A.N. This chapter focused quite a lot on Ueda/Yuri, but those of you who aren't particularly interested in the pairing, you'll be glad to know that this (SHOULD) be the last big scene for them (but then we all know how bad I am at keeping promises sometimes, so you never know –grin-).

Again, I'm sorry for the long wait. I'm still in exam hell at the moment (won't be free until mid June) and chapter seven proved troublesome anyway.

**Just so that you know, there will be a leap in time at the beginning of the next chapter. We're going to jump a couple of weeks to take us into mid-December. This is just a warning so that nobody feels it has just been sprung on them when it happens.**

Until next chapter!

Shattered Midnight Dreams…zzz…

Mine is a dream that was lost in a breeze, because life's like that sometimes…


	8. Champagne Breakfast

_The insane musings of the authoress: _Yeah, I know, it's been a while, dolls. I'd give you a nice explanation now, but I decided to save my authoress' note to the end; because this chapter has been a long time coming and I'll bet you all just want to read now, right? .:smiles:.

_Special thanks to: _All the reviewers. I love you guys so much. You all deserve lots of huggles and cookies for putting up with such a neglectful authoress .:doles out huggles and cookies:.

_Extra special thanks to: _Lily and the rest of my family for putting up with me during my insane bout of exam-induced tendency to blow up at everyone all the time; and of course Sylphie, whom I LOVE TO PIECES! (Girl, I'm so sorry I haven't spoken to you in so long. My computer time? Has been like zilch. And any time I could spare from studying, I used to write. I'll send you a mail real soon. How was the dance?)

_Disclaimer: _Own CCS? Moi? Only in my most fun daydreams .:grins somewhat sadistically (oh Eriol-kun, come heeeere. _Please _put on the kitty ears – you'd look so cute. …Can you give the tail a miss? Oh, but come on, it'd be so adorable! …don't run _away_!):.

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Eight_

_Champagne Breakfast_

"Never really thought about how much work Christmases really are," Sakura said with a sigh as she scrutinised the piece of paper on which she was slowly and laboriously writing down a list. She scratched the side of her head with the end of her pencil and looked pleadingly at her husband.

"Let's see, I have a tree, presents, decorations, a Christmas cake and a note to make a reservation at that really nice restaurant for dinner…" she recited, and eyed her husband carefully, waiting for his response.

Said husband was examining their oven and trying to figure out why it wouldn't work despite his best efforts to jolt it into the contrary.

"And here I thought we were going to be brave and cook at home for…" he bit his tongue before he said 'our first Christmas together', because although that was really what it was, he hadn't really the right to say that, as it wouldn't only be their first Christmas together, but their last, also.

What a depressing thought.

Sakura baulked at the idea, making a disbelieving noise.

"Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how much work that is? Besides, I wouldn't know where to start – it was always Tomoyo who did all the organising for our Christmases – she just told me what to do," Sakura said, frowning.

Syaoran shrugged, his back still to her. She watched his shoulders rise and fall.

"Damn oven," he muttered as he poked enthusiastically at another button. "I wonder what this one does…" he murmured to himself.

Sakura had to fight hard to resist the sudden almost overwhelming urge to giggle. _He's so adorable sometimes._

"I still say it would be nice to cook ourselves," Syaoran said in a slightly louder voice. "It wouldn't be that hard – there will only be four of us, after all, right? A chicken should do it. I'll even take care of the cooking. It would be fun," he concluded optimistically.

"Syaoran, dear, Christmas is in _one week_. The oven's messed up, so unless you're proposing you cook the chicken on a spit over an open fire or something, I highly doubt there is going to be any cooking going on in this house on Christmas," she said as she tapped her pencil idly against her list (written on a page in an almost frighteningly pink Hello Kitty notebook, of course).

Syaoran grinned widely at that.

"You shouldn't have brought up the spit idea," he said, "you've given me ideas…"

"No spit cooking," Sakura said firmly, eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth. Syaoran turned finally to face her and pouted.

"Aww…" he complained, and Sakura's face split into a smile that she couldn't hold back.

"Besides," she said, talking mostly to simply try to control the smile, "I was thinking of expanding the party…"

Syaoran looked suspiciously at her. Sakura attempted to look wide-eyed and innocent.

"You sound too nonchalant for your own good," he said, folding his arms across his chest, "just how much were you planning on expanding it by?"

"Well, I was thinking that it might be nice to invite my family. Onii-chan is forever complaining that he never sees me anymore, and of course Yukito-san would come too, and 'tou-san… Well, he lives by himself. I thought it might be nice for us all to go to dinner. We could have your family as well, but…" she trailed off, and Syaoran grinned.

"Don't worry, I know. We'd be taking over the whole restaurant at that point," he said. Then he looked considering.

"That doesn't sound too bad," he conceded, "apart from the fact that I don't think your brother really likes me all that much." He pulled a face, as did Sakura.

"I know," she said in what she hoped was a sympathetic tone, "I think he might have been drunk that day when we were at his house and he agreed so easily to our 'marriage'."

Syaoran winced at the way she said 'marriage', putting invisible mocking emphasis on it. He didn't like to be constantly reminded of the fact that he would lose her, not too long from now.

He shook his head and grinned at his wife.

"But I'm sure it'll all be fine," he said, "your father's a really nice guy, and besides, we have Tomoyo-san and you to diffuse the tension – he loves you, and her, to pieces, after all," he said, considering. "Eriol-san and I will simply sit very, very far away from him," he finished.

Sakura flushed uncomfortably and squirmed in her seat.

"I'm sorry about him, but at least Yukito-san will be there to help matters." she said, but Syaoran halted her with a shake of his head.

"I was just the same with my sister's husbands," he said, then paused with a frown. "Although I was only ten years old when Fei onee-chan got married, so it probably wasn't all that effective," he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Sakura had to grin along with him as she imagined a chibi Syaoran glowering for all he was worth across a dinner table at his older sister's fiancé.

"I can't believe it's only a week until Christmas," Sakura said happily as she gazed out of the large kitchen window and out into the garden beyond. "I hope it snows…"

Syaoran had gone back to poking unsuccessfully at the oven, and Sakura was forced to giggle at him.

"Syaoran," she said, "darling, I'm afraid that you are _not _going to get that thing to work again all by yourself. I'll call out a technician, okay? I don't want you hurting yourself."

Syaoran couldn't see his wife's expression but she sounded concerned. He could picture her face in his mind, her delicate eyebrows drawing neatly together over her eyes – the expression she never failed to make when she was worried. He couldn't deny that the idea of her worrying over him made a warm feeling spread through his chest.

"It's just frustrating," he said, standing up again and turning on his heel, facing away from the broken appliance again, "I would really have enjoyed doing dinner here."

"Well, maybe if I get the technician out fast enough, you'll be able to," Sakura said comfortingly. "A home Christmas would be nice…" she mused to herself.

As Syaoran regarded his wife, a thought struck him.

"What date is it?" he asked her suddenly. Sakura blinked, startled out of her reverie with surprise at his abrupt question, "er, a week to Christmas, which would make it… December 18th. Why?"

Syaoran shook his head.

"Nothing, nothing. Don't worry about it; I just remembered something," he smiled reassuringly, and Sakura looked like she was ready to drop it.

_I was right_, he thought, and made a mental note to do something about it.

…

To Syaoran, the rest of that Saturday passed in a blur of Sakura talking on the phone.

She called her father, her brother and his boyfriend to tell them about their new Christmas plans ("we might be going to dinner at a restaurant," she warned them, "or we might be doing something at home. Our oven's broken, but Syaoran really wants to cook, so be prepared for either, okay?" Syaoran felt an almost inexplicable rush of affection towards her then. She just sounded like a little child, with the firmness of her tone), she called Tomoyo and Eriol to find out the number of the guy who fixed their fridge for them that time ("fridges and ovens are nearly the same thing!" she said defensively when Syaoran questioned her on the point of doing that), and then she called the fridge repairman, who informed her that he could indeed take a look at their oven, as he was an all-round kitchen appliance specialist (which prompted Sakura to do a little victory dance to annoy Syaoran – "I was so RIGHT! In your face, Syaoran!") and would Wednesday be okay?

At one point, while Sakura was on the phone, Syaoran snuck out of the house to purchase some of the materials he would require to be able to implement his Master Plan.

…

When Sakura woke up on Sunday morning she was so exhausted and her brain so sleep-addled that she managed to walk straight into a wall on her way down the stairs. So, needless to say she was in a bad mood when she walked into the kitchen with one side of her hair sticking up comically in its habitual early-morning style and rubbing a sore spot on her forehead where she had had her collision with the wall.

The sight that greeted her eyes, however, made her drop her hand from the sore spot and gape.

"What's – what's all this?" she asked, gobsmacked.

Syaoran, who had been facing away from her, started violently at the sound of a voice. Evidently he hadn't heard her approach.

"Oh," he said, looking at the table as well, "It's… Um… It's… Well… Doyouknowwhatdateitis?" he finally asked her in a rush.

She blinked at him and tried – unsuccessfully – to rearrange her hair with one distracted hand.

"Er… December 19th, I think," she said hesitantly. "Why?"

"Er…" he looked down at the table and blushed. "All this may have been a bit much, but, er, it's our one-month anniversary today. Well, it sort of isn't really exactly; I mean it's been one month since we did the whole big wedding thing, not a month since the chapel wedding in Tokyo. Anyway, I just thought…"

He trailed off, running out of steam. Sakura's eyes softened.

"It's our one-month anniversary?" she asked, her voice gentle and disbelieving. He nodded.

"I can't believe it," she said.

"And I know this isn't a real marriage, but I thought we should celebrate, you know, after all we have managed to go a month without either of us committing murder, or walking out early, or even having a big row…" he began again, but stopped abruptly when he felt the light pressure of Sakura's lips against his cheek.

He closed his mouth where it had been open mid-sentence and turned his head to look at her as she lowered herself back down off the tips of her toes.

"Thank you so much for this," she said sincerely. "I really, really appreciate it. It's lovely, and so thoughtful of you."

Syaoran could feel his face – no, in fact, make that his face, his ears _and _his neck – turn instantly red so fast the blood made an almost audible _whoosh_.

"It – it was nothing," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I hope you like it. I was going for a sort-of breakfast in Paris type thing."

"Are those chocolate crepes?" she asked excitedly.

Syaoran laughed.

"Yes, they are. Store-bought, unfortunately. I would have cooked some from scratch myself, but the oven's messed up, as you know."

"And champagne?" she squealed.

"I figured we'd have a champagne breakfast," he replied. "A little unusual, but…"

"It's PINK!" she squealed, and Syaoran laughed again.

"Yes, I figured you'd like that," he said, and he looked down on her with soft eyes. She looked up at him and he looked away quickly, frightened of inadvertently giving himself away.

"Thank you so much, again," she said, and she was practically glowing.

_I did that, _Syaoran thought proudly to himself, and something warm rose in his chest.

"You really didn't have to go to all this trouble," she said.

"No, I… I wanted to," he said, smiling.

_Sakura and Syaoran will sit down to breakfast, during which Syaoran will be blatantly over-affectionate in every action he takes; but, lucky for him, the things written in the way he gazes longingly across the table at Sakura will zoom straight over our heroine's head. They'll eat their breakfast and Syaoran, the poor dear, will not notice that he should just write 'I LOVE YOU SAKURA!' across his forehead and be done with it._

…

A.N. You get a slightly short chapter this week, my dears. This chapter is really just filler to set up the run-up to Christmas. I wanted to break it there because… Well, it makes sense in my head, but it might not written down. Let's just suffice it to say that this way doesn't make me want to tear my hair out.

Now that the sufficiently odd author's note is over, let me just say: **Normal service resumes as of NOW, because my exams are OVER! .:does the happy happy squee dance of joy:. Thank you all for being so patient with me over the last while. I know I've been a neglectful little authoress, but I fully intend to make it up to you. (Just so you know – chapter nine? Majorly in the works. …and it's coming out fluffy. Something to look forward to .:grins:.)**

Shattered Midnight Dreams…zzz…

Because life's like that sometimes…


	9. Even Though

_The insane musings of the authoress: _My exams are well over, I got all my results back and I did really well. In a hurry, so I won't elaborate.

_Special thanks to: _Everyone who reviewed; and put up with irregular service – your patience was wonderful. Also thanks for all the good luck!

_Extra Special Thanks to: _The usual suspects .:smiles:.

_Disclaimer: _CCS is not mine.

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Nine_

_Even Though_

"Ooh, and look at this! Wouldn't Tomoyo-chan just looove this?" Sakura said, more to herself than to her resigned-looking husband, who rolled his eyes as his wife bounced over to yet _another _tantalisingly sparkly object.

"Sakura, darling, I'm not sure I can _carry _anything more," Syaoran said gently as he hefted the huge shopping bags around in his grip to see if he could find a less excruciating position in which to hold them.

He couldn't.

"I'll carry this one!" she promised earnestly as she picked the object up – what _was _it, anyway? Syaoran had to wonder – and practically _skipped _over to the cashier.

Who was wearing furry novelty reindeer antlers and _musical earrings_. And beaming so hard with apparent Christmas-y cheer that he was surprised the poor young girl's face wasn't cracking with the strain.

Sakura was chatting happily away to the young woman, seemingly delighted to have found someone as 'alive with Christmas spirit' (as Sakura would have put it. Syaoran would have called it being 'really really scarily manic', but we digress) as she herself was.

"That's my husband over there, you know," Sakura was saying cheerfully to the girl. Syaoran could just about hear her from where he was. Immediately the girl moved her head to look, and Syaoran felt a stupid warmth in his chest when Sakura referred to him like that.

"The grumpy-looking one," Sakura continued blithely.

"Oh," scary-reindeer-cashier-girl (as Syaoran had just dubbed her) said, still smiling. "He looks really nice," she continued.

"I think he's mad at me," Sakura confided in a stage whisper, which Syaoran could clearly hear as he slowly made his way towards the check-out. "Do you think he looks mad at me?" she asked the cashier, looking worried.

"I'm not mad at you, Sakura," Syaoran assured her as he set the myriad shopping bags down at his feet. Sakura started just a little.

"Oh, Syaoran, I didn't hear you come over!" she said. Then she stopped and considered him for a moment.

"Did you say you're not mad at me?" she asked him hopefully. "Even though I made you carry all those bags?"

He smiled. "Even though," he confirmed, then frowned. "But you didn't _make _me carry the bags – I _offered_."

Sakura scrunched up her nose.

"I think I might have tricked you into offering," she confessed. He grinned.

"No, Sakura, I'm just the perfect gentleman," he said, and wiggled his eyebrows. Sakura tried to hold in her laughter at his expression, but she couldn't help it.

The cashier smiled warmly, and looked like she wanted to say something like 'aw, you guys are so cute!' but wasn't sure how they'd take it.

…

_Email from_: _headseamstress(at)daidoujidesigns(dot)com_

_To: zettaidaijobu(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_Subject: Thought this might amuse you! _

One of the girls who works in one of our offices is getting married soon, so all the girls were passing this around:

**Ten rules men wished women knew:**

Shopping is not a sport. Anything you wear is fine. Really. You have enough clothes, and you have too many shoes. You need to ask for what you want. Subtle hints won't work. No, we don't know what day it is. We never will. Mark anniversaries on a calendar. We hate to be asked what we're thinking, as 50 of the time we're not thinking, and the other half of the time you wouldn't want to hear what we're thinking. Yes, No and Mmm are perfectly acceptable answers. Anything we said 6 months or 30 years ago is inadmissible in an argument. All comments become null and void after 7 days. If something we said can be interpreted two ways, and one of the ways makes you sad and angry, we meant the other one. Never question our sense of direction. 

God knows Eriol and I could relate to them! And probably, so could Syaoran and you, even just to a few.

How's the Christmas shopping going, by the way? If it went anything like the attempt Eriol and I made, Syaoran whined the whole way that his feet hurt and _how many goddamn presents do we have to get anyway?_ and _do we really have to get a present for _her? _I don't even _like _her! _And _Sakura-san could not possibly require another sparkly item of little use_.

…I really, really don't know why I bother sometimes.

_Tomoyo_

…

Sakura inhaled deeply and smiled dreamily as she danced down the street alongside Syaoran.

"I love Christmas," she said cheerily, and Syaoran had to admit her good mood was infectious.

"And I love late night shopping," she continued.

"I suppose you get reminded of all the times you and Tomoyo-san went together, hmm?" he asked, and felt inexplicably jealous. Sakura smiled.

"Yeah, a little, I guess," she replied, "but I like doing it with you, too. It's nice, in a different kind of way. You know, you didn't complain as much as I thought you would."

"I don't know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment," Syaoran said, an eyebrow raised. Sakura blushed.

_I like walking home with all the Christmas lights shining_, Sakura thought to herself, _and I like even the cold and the promise of snow in the air, that crisp cold bite. I like scarves and gloves and hats and coats buttoned right up to the throat; cheeks like ripe red apples and the bustle of other people; I like that Christmas is a time for reunions and reconciliations._

She was jolted out of her thoughts by a realization.

"Syaoran, your scarf's coming undone," she murmured quietly as she reached up and wrapped it around his neck again, securing it carefully. He smiled gratefully at her and they kept walking.

They passed a young couple strolling almost aimlessly along; hands together and fingers entwined; clasped and resting on her shoulder. His arm was around her shoulders and he was murmuring something softly to her in a language that Sakura thought might have been French – it had the right gentle, flowing quality to it. The woman was just pregnant enough for it to show through her heavy coat; and they looked so happy and gloriously in love that Sakura felt something in her throat.

_Of course, Christmas is a holiday for lovers._

She glanced over at Syaoran out of the corner of her eye and edged ever so slightly nearer to him while still walking forward (for the frequently clumsy Sakura, this took a hell of a lot of co-ordination).

She reached her hand out slowly, hesitantly; ready to snatch it back at a millisecond's notice. She watched it as it moved and a part of herself, a part of herself that was somehow removed from the rest of her and watching as if detached from the part of brain that was controlling the movement, asked bemusedly what the hell she was doing.

The rest of Sakura replied, "hmm. Gjsmhfimillsjup?"

Her fingers, clad in bright pink Hello Kitty mittens, brushed against the back of Syaoran's hand once, and then she snatched them away, wincing. _Well, that was a dumb idea. _Her eyes were trained intently on Syaoran as she watched for his reaction. What she got was a soft almost-sigh not quite murmur half grunt under his breath, and then he shuffled a little. Finally he reached out and took her hand quickly in his; and then made a noise in his throat that wanted to be a sigh but ended up just being a little huff of contentment.

Sakura felt that she should offer an explanation at this point as to the impulsive hand grabbing; so she said, "my hand was cold."

And winced at the poor excuse as soon as it was out of her mouth. Her hands were wrapped in fluffy, thick, woolen mittens, how could they be _cold_?

He glanced at her skeptically and she flushed under his scrutiny. Then she felt the faintest squeeze of his hand on hers and he said softly, "don't worry – my 'hand was cold' too."

She caught his double meaning and something warm coiled in the pit of her stomach. He was blushing, she was fairly certain, but then it could have just been the cold.

She wavered her way closer to him; just a few centimeters every few steps they took forward until she was suddenly right up beside him; their sides pressed together.

"My side was cold," she explained quickly when he raised an eyebrow at her.

"…my head's cold too," she murmured as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Hmm," Syaoran said after a few minutes, with a gently wicked smile, "does this mean that if I say 'my lips are cold', you'll do something about it?"

Sakura laughed.

…

It was surprisingly comfortable to walk that way; the gentle motion of Syaoran as he walked almost lulling Sakura to sleep.

"We're almost to the train station, Sakura," Syaoran warned her a little later, his tone gentle and quiet as his breath ghosted over her hair, "you can fall asleep on the train, but not yet, okay?"

"Mmmmmm," she replied, and she could feel the reverberations of his chuckle.

…

The conductor of that particular train was apparently as full of Christmas spirit as Sakura and the scary-reindeer-cashier-girl were (and Syaoran had to wonder if he was actually a Scrooge; or if he was just normal in comparison), as he had hung mistletoe above the doors by which passengers exited the train.

Syaoran watched, somewhat fascinated, as couples left the train together; and anyone who was travelling alone found a partner to kiss. Everyone giggled heartily and somewhat giddily as they obediently took part in the tradition. Even girls gamely kissed other girls; but nearly all of the men were spoilsports and refused to kiss each other, and so had to double up with any available girls.

There had been a particularly amusing moment when, astonishingly, around twenty men were getting off at a stop with only two women. The train driver had had to sit for five minutes at the stop while the two best girlfriends, laughing heartily, made their way around all the men.

Sakura had been sound asleep with her head propped on his shoulder since the very beginning of the journey and so missed all the festivities. Syaoran tried not to think about what would happen when he and Sakura departed the train, as it made his body tingle in a way that he wasn't sure he liked.

Their stop came up faster than he had anticipated; the train speeding along in a blur of mistletoe kisses, Christmas spirit, laughter and Sakura's breath both warming and tickling the sensitive skin of his neck (that hadn't been wrapped up in scarf under Sakura's strict instruction).

"Sakura," he said gently when he realised that the very next stop was theirs, "wake up. Come on – we have to get up soon."

"Mmmlurf… No!" she moaned, and buried her head further into his shoulder, "mmmm…"

Syaoran wanted to stuff his fist into his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud.

"Come on, now, Sakura," he coaxed. "Come on. We have to get up. Don't make me tickle you, or shake you, or poke you, or employ the usual tactic for waking up Sleeping Beauty," he said cheerily, "or something equally unpleasant."

"Syaorannn…" she said in her sleep. He was certain she wasn't replying to him, so was she… Dreaming about him?

"Sakura!" he hissed, more urgently. Sakura raised a hand and waved it limply; like she was swatting a fly half-heartedly, and mumbled, "Syaorannn… No… Five more minutes. 'S Sunday. No work. Sleeeepy…"

Syaoran had to bite his lip _hard _to stop himself from bursting into undignified giggles.

"Sometimes," he mumbled to her, "you are unintentionally hilarious, you know that?"

She smiled in her sleep as if to say, "I know. Don't you just love me?"

"Mm, I do. Lots. But I'm afraid I'm going to end up poking you, Sakura," he warned her, and when she still didn't respond, he sighed and pinched her cheek. Hard.

"Ow!" she said, loudly, and jolted up into a sitting position. She glared blearily at him.

"Was that really necessary?" she asked him as she rubbed her cheek and looked wounded.

"Well, I did _try _to wake you more gently, but you weren't having any of it," he explained.

"You look too devious for that innocent tone to work," she pointed out; and he tried to look saintly.

The train slowed to a stop and Sakura and Syaoran arose from their seats; pausing only to gather up their shopping bags hurriedly. They got to the doors and Syaoran watched, amused, as Sakura noticed the mistletoe for the first time and blushed deeply.

((1)) "Ah," she said, as she turned to face him awkwardly and gazed up. Her eyes made him think of poetry and a thousand verses came and fled, until all he was left with was, _her eyes are like green like grass. _

He thinks he could quite feasibly die for those eyes.

"Ah," she said again and he smiled and he thought his heart may just be singing, as stupid as that sounds.

He did it for her; because they might stand there all day, all 'ah's and blushes and shuffles; skirting around and waiting waiting waiting.

She was on her tiptoes suddenly; drawn there under his careful coaxing; mouth to his and he remembered their wedding day as one of his hands found her hair; the automatic door of the train became the altar in his mind.

Then they pulled apart, a little breathless, and stepped off the train.

She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when they stepped onto the platform.

"I know it's a little early, but merry Christmas, Syaoran," she said to him.

"Merry Christmas, Sakura," he said, but he meant to say 'I love you' (he tells himself that he's not afraid, the words just got lost on the way to his mouth). ((2))

…

A.N. The ending section, between points ((1)) and ((2)), is a little awkward in my mind. I kept trying to write it in the present tense – it just made so much more sense that way! If it wasn't so completely unprofessional AND JUST NOT DONE, EVER, DAMMIT! then I think I would have just changed tense for the ending.

Anyway, this chapter is nothing but absolutely shameless fluff, but I think I like it. Especially the last line .:huggles poor Syaoran:.

Shattered Midnight Dreams…zzz…


	10. Christmas

_The insane musings of the authoress: _Heh. Heh heh. Heh. :ducks for cover: Hello there? Meep.

Yeah, I know it's been an unforgivably long time. Truth is, whatever little passion I once held for this project has mostly dissipated. That - along with the fact that school is kicking me and I do actually have a life – is the core of the problem. (Having too many other projects on the go probably isn't helping either. I appear to be stupidly determined to make myself explode from overwork.)

That said, I will finish, I promise! I haven't begun an endeavour as large as this and ploughed on for so long, collecting so many readers along the way, to stop now. Oh no. This baby, my friends, is getting its conclusion.

_Disclaimer: _I do not own CCS or its characters. I like to take them and cause them untold amounts of metal anguish, but I always put them back afterwards. I swear.

**Also, this chapter is in honour of my third anniversary of being a writer here at FF. Net! Yes, on Oct 20th three years ago, a naïve little eleven-year-old version of me signed up here. I've come such a long way since then. Thank you to everyone who has read my fics, reviewed them – both the positive and negative comments – emailed me, poked me during my sometimes all too frequent absences, kicked me on my LJ, pretended to beta (thanks, Lily!) or was just plainly a cheerleader (thanks, Sylphie!). I owe you all so much. Here's to many more anniversaries after this one!**

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Ten_

_Christmas_

_(Sub-heading 1 – Christmas Eve)_

"You know, the surprising thing is that this actually seemed like a _good _idea when I started," Syaoran said absently to Sakura as he used a formidable-looking kitchen utensil to prod uncertainly at the big chicken roasting away in the newly repaired oven.

In the next room Sakura frowned at the piece of tinsel that she had hung around her neck, like a sparkling blue snake.

"I'm sure it's going fine," she said, sounding just as absent as her husband had, eyes now flicking between the large, lusciously green tree and the fluffy, brand-new tinsel. "You're bound to be doing a better job at the chicken than I am at this," she added under her breath.

"What was that last part, dear?" Syaoran called into his wife. She shook her head before she remembered that he couldn't actually see her and so then said, "nothing."

She thought she'd spoken so quietly that there was absolutely no way he could have heard her, but apparently she was mistaken.

"How's it going in there?" he called as he finally closed the door of the oven again and vowed not to poke at it again for at _least _the next ten minutes.

Sakura groaned audibly.

"Not too good," she conceded.

"Oh," he said as he got up from his crouched position on the floor, "anything I can help you with?"

"But the chicken…" she protested weakly _((PLEASE come help me, I beg of you, take mercy on a poor young woman wrestling with the absurd thing that is tinsel!))_

"Not a problem," he said breezily as he walked into the room where she was, "I promised myself I'd actually leave it alone to cook by itself without interruption for a little while, so I could actually do with the distraction."

He smiled brightly and lifted another plush piece of tinsel from the pile before draping it – effortlessly and ever-so-artistically – over one of the branches of the tree. Sakura gaped at him.

"I hate you, just a little," she said, smiling nonetheless.

"I try," he beamed, and they looked at each for a moment before laughing.

…

"The house smells like Christmas," Sakura observed as she delicately placed a silver bauble on the end of a fragrant, startlingly green branch.

Syaoran laughed softly.

"Good. I'm glad you like it. But I must admit that the whole house just stinks of chicken to me," he said with a small shrug. Sakura laughed.

"But oh, Syaoran, the pine needles! …And the chicken. Am I weird for loving the fact that the whole house smells like poultry?" she pondered, and Syaoran laughed at the thoughtful look that crossed her face.

He flicked the end of her nose without realising what he was doing and her eyes crossed to focus on his finger.

"Maybe a little," he said, lips twitching in a smile he wasn't about to let them get away with, and she let loose a smile so bright it surprised him.

…

"Syaoran, you _do_ know they say a watched pot never boils, and all that…" Sakura said timidly when she ventured into the kitchen an hour later to find Syaoran glaring at his innocently cooking chicken and wearing a pair of (her) oven gloves.

"Yes, but an unwatched chicken burns itself to a crisp," he responded under his breath.

Sakura thought it most sensible to back away…

…slowly.

…

Sakura jolted awake with a start when she heard someone cross the threshold of the living room.

"I'm not lying under the Christmas tree!" she insisted blearily as she shot backwards quickly along the floor and stood up. There was a twig in her hair, and Syaoran laughed fondly.

"Yes, you were," he pointed out, "you were smelling the tree, weren't you?"

She colored rather guiltily.

"Maybe," she admitted. "Anyway, the chicken?"

"Done," he said, and managed to convey so much relief in the one word that Sakura felt a corresponding weight lift from her shoulders.

"Wonderful," she said sincerely. "And I trust it turned out okay?"

"Lovely," he said, "if I do say so myself. Well, I mean, it _looks _okay, I don't know how it'll taste… But I didn't really want to cut a bit off to taste it – would have kind of wrecked the look of it for tomorrow."

He paused for a second, Sakura looking at him with a fond eyebrow raised, and he blushed.

"Okay, watch me stop rambling now," he said sheepishly, and Sakura laughed.

…

"Do these presents _really _require all this _ribbon_?" Syaoran asked Sakura in disbelief.

"But it's fun!" she replied cheerily. "It's all sparkly and curly and why are you laughing?"

He'd been trying to smother the bubble of laughter that accompanied her descent into transports of delight.

"You've been living with Tomoyo-san far too long," he explained succinctly. Sakura pouted, then felt stupid for pouting, and settled for pouting harder.

"Pass me that ribbon," she said in what she hoped was a commanding tone. Syaoran did so.

"Now, just for that comment, your punishment is to hold down this bit of wrapping paper WHICH WILL NOT STAY PUT, DAMMIT while I attack it with liberal amounts of sticky tape. Okay?" she asked sweetly, and Syaoran nodded.

They wrapped presents (mostly) peacefully for the next hour – Sakura contorted herself into various deeply painful looking positions in order to hold down all the little, damn annoying flaps of sparkly wrapping paper at once. She had not yet resorted to utilising her tongue, but Syaoran wouldn't bet against the possibility of it happening sometime very soon.

"The devil invented wrapping paper," she proclaimed in a rather scary voice as she struggled to wrap a very strangely-shaped box (Syaoran mused that it looked like she was one step away from actually wrestling with it.) He agreed hurriedly with her as he put the last bit of sticky tape onto the present he was effortlessly wrapping.

With a huff, Sakura finally finished wrapping her present and surveyed it critically. It looked a little lumpy, but it would suffice.

"Look, Syaoran!" she said proudly as she waved the present in his face. Syaoran looked up from the present he was squinting at as he attempted to artfully attach a piece of ribbon and smiled at her.

"Well done," he complimented her, and Sakura almost glowed… Until she caught sight of the present he had just finished.

"That," she said, pausing for dramatic effect as she pointed a finger at the offending object (Syaoran winced and would have cowered, had it not been such a powerfully unmanly thing to do), "is a work of art. And it only makes me hate you more."

A silence blanketed the pair of them; a silence in which neither of them spoke, and they barely _breathed_ (or at least, Syaoran felt as though he didn't) and then Syaoran volunteered timidly, "I'm sorry?"

Sakura collapsed into giggles and fell softly against him, a pale hand resting gently against his skin; long, delicate fingers curving along the natural circumference of his arm.

He thought about how easy it would be to sweep the soft wave of honey-colored hair from her ear and whisper the little truth that weighed heavy on his heart, but instead; when she looked at up at him with wide eyes the color of sweet spring grass and asked him if something was wrong, he shook his head, wordless.

She smiled at him then and looked at the fire burning merrily in the grate, an action which sent scarlet skittering and dancing across her irises. Syaoran felt something near his heart thud, but it wasn't painful.

"Syaoran," Sakura said finally, turning to him as she spoke, but he held up a hand and shook his head gently.

"Don't," he said softly, imploringly, "don't say anything. You'll spoil it."

…

She fell asleep over wrapping one of the presents, a clump of scarlet ribbon tangled through her hair and her face smushed into the carpet. He chuckled over the sight, softly, and debated whether or not he should move her.

He decided after a few moment's consideration that he couldn't possibly leave her with her face into the carpet like that, and so he moved her back gently, a hand on her shoulder guiding her in her gentle, slow collapse into his waiting arms. He shifted her weight in his arms when he stood up and she lolled a little, like a little girl's doll, soft and warm in that special, fuzzy-and-blurred-around-the-edges way that sleeping people seemed to have. Sleeping women.

Or maybe just Sakura, when she slept. He wasn't sure.

He didn't want to move her all the way to her bedroom, afraid that the continued motion would wake her, so instead he deposited her as lightly as he could upon the couch. He paused to smooth away a strand of hair that slashed brilliantly across the pale slope of her forehead, glinting gold.

He considered finding a blanket for her, and then decided that that was unnecessary, given the crackling fire.

So he left her, slumbering peacefully and muttering unintelligible things in her sleep, and went back to wrapping presents on the floor next to the couch.

…

He finished at two AM, and fell asleep with his upper body draped across the couch (and Sakura). He'd been watching her sleep.

In the midst of his dreams, he whispered, _I love you_, but neither of them heard.

…

When Syaoran awoke the next morning, Sakura had already got up off the couch. He rubbed his eyes futilely, grinding useless knuckles in before rubbing his hand through his hair vigorously to try to wake himself up.

He heaved himself up from the makeshift bed with an effort and stumbled, his gait and general demeanour bear-like in their sleepiness, into the kitchen, his eyes squinted irritably against the terrible onslaught of the early-morning sunlight.

Sakura smiled brightly at him as he came in and turned over the eggs she was frying in the pan.

"Oh, you're up. That's good, I was just about to go get –" she was cut off as Syaoran ambled over to her and pulled her gently into his arms. He laid his sleep-warm cheek against her own, and his breath played against the skin of her ear.

"Syaoran?" she began, brows drawn together, but stopped when she realised that his hold on her had suddenly become more lax; and the breath against her ear much deeper and more even.

He'd fallen asleep. Standing up.

She laughed softly as he slumped against her.

"You silly man," she chided fondly. She knew why he was tired – he must have completed that huge pile of presents that needed wrapping. He had easily done half, all on his own, after she had fallen asleep.

She really did love him, sometimes.

"Merry Christmas, Syaoran," she said, and pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

…

_(Sub-heading Two: Christmas Day)_

…

She was wearing the dress he'd bought her, scarlet lipstick (which he'd never seen on her before, and suited her almost entirely too much) and a look of fidgety anticipation mixed with abject harassment that shouldn't have looked as adorable on her as it did.

When she walked (or, rather, bustled frantically) past him, the fragrance of the perfume that had also been part of his present to her wafted around her in a cloud, turning the very air to flowers and strawberries and the scent of freshly-washed sheets drying on the line (but a big part of him was certain that that was as much her own doing as the perfume's).

If not more.

She was alternately smoothing down her dress over her knees (all the while muttering, "oh God, _please _don't let me drop anything down this" in a way that was too sweet for words) and not-quite-running around in a way that suggested she was anxious that nothing should be going wrong, but that she almost wished it would so that she could be _doing something with her hands_.

He had to bite down a laugh.

"Everything will go fine," he tried to assure her, but she whirled on him in a way that suggested he hadn't succeeded with a certain wildness in her eyes that made him _certain_ of the fact and bit out, "that's easy for you to say!"

"All you have to do is get the damn chicken out on time and oh my GOD I think I just heard a car pull up outside! For God's sake don't let the vegetables burn while I open the door!" she said quickly and rushed to the door.

"You're cute when you panic!" he called after her, grinning at the thought of her irritated face.

"ARGH!" was her quick response just before she wrenched the door open with a savage kind of desperation and plastered on a quick 'Look at me, I'm such a good hostess and yes, my husband _is _laughing his head off in the kitchen and _no, _that is _not_ a tic jumping underneath my eye' smile.

On the doorstep, Tomoyo blinked. Eriol just smiled in a bemused sort of fashion.

"Um," Tomoyo began uncertainly, and looked as though she was prepared to throw her hands over her head and duck for cover any moment, should the need for such actions arise, "we brought Christmas cake?"

She gingerly held out the box.

"Oh my God I love you guys because I forgot to pick up the cake oh my God I'm so stupid Syaoran why did you let me forget to pick up the cake and I'm SO HAPPY YOU'RE HERE why don't you come in and sit down," she said in one breathless rush.

Tomoyo looked afraid.

"Oh my God, what the _hell _is wrong with you!" she demanded, as any sane person might.

"I think I'm going to faint," Sakura said miserably. Tomoyo made a small _huff_ing noise of disapproval that made her sound so much like Sonomi that Eriol stifled a giggle.

"Probably from _lack of air, _you idiot," she scolded, and immediately propped Sakura up with an arm slung around her slim waist. "Come on, you need to sit down," she said firmly, and steered Sakura into the living room.

Tomoyo shoved the box of Christmas cake into Eriol's arms and continued on her way into the living room. Eriol looked at it for a second before taking the logical course of action and taking it with him into the kitchen.

…

Syaoran was prodding expertly at a pot of simmering vegetables when Eriol walked in.

"I come bearing Christmas cake," he said.

Then, upon sniffing the air, he followed it up with, "mmm, something smells good."

"You had better be talking about my chicken," Syaoran said darkly, "after all the effort that went into that bird."

Eriol blinked.

"Okay," he said slowly, and put the box down on the table.

"Is there something in the air in this house?" he asked a second later as he pulled out a chair from the table and straddled it, looking questioningly at Syaoran. Syaoran blinked.

"Not that I know of?" he volunteered, and Eriol's brow creased.

"It's just that Sakura's freaking out-" he began.

Syaoran smiled more than a little fondly.

"Oh, Sakura's just all scared over making this perfect," he explained as he hastily turned the heat down on one of his pots of vegetables – it was bubbling a little too violently to be safe, and spitting out the occasional jet of scalding water in a vaguely grumpy manner.

"It's her first Christmas not at home or with Tomoyo-san, and she wants to make it just as wonderful as any they ever had together," he said as he donned a pair of oven gloves again and checked on his chicken. "It's almost like she's trying to prove her worth, you know? It's actually a little as if she was trying to prove to an ex that she doesn't need him."

Syaoran closed the oven door again and smiled at Eriol.

"Okay," he said, "crappy comparison, but you know what I'm getting at."

Eriol nodded.

"I do," he said, and the doorbell rang as he spoke.

…

Sakura had planned the seating, and it was decidedly strategic. The seven of them were seated comfortably around the Lis' oblong dining table, two lines along the two longest sides with nobody out on their own at either end. Sakura had sat Eriol first on one side, then put Tomoyo beside him. She then placed Touya in between Tomoyo and Yukito. On the other side, Syaoran was directly opposite Eriol, Fujitaka faced Tomoyo and Sakura faced her older brother.

Really, the whole thing was like a military operation; and the objective was to keep Touya away from Syaoran; and also keep him with Tomoyo and Sakura, ensuring that he couldn't get too close to Eriol for too long a time, because _that _tended to make Touya ask inappropriate questions, such as _when _was Eriol _finally _going to make an honest woman of his dear Tomoyo?

Dinner passed without anything going wrong and Sakura relaxed more and more as the night wore on (but that may have had something to do with the way Syaoran kept on filling her glass with sake. Eriol raised his eyebrow once at him, but Syaoran shrugged helplessly in a way that said clearly _my defence is that this is making her loosen up and I don't think you want her to stay as tightly wound as she is, either. Besides, I'm not going to get her _**drunk**_what kind of husband do you take me for?_)

Syaoran's chicken was simply magnificent, and everyone told him so without even being prompted, which made Syaoran's night. Tomoyo and Sakura kept Touya engaged in conversation so as to avoid absolutely _anything _happening between him and Syaoran, or indeed, Eriol; and Syaoran got to know his father-in-law. He turned out to be a most kindly man with fascinating anecdotes about his time as an archaeology professor.

They had Tomoyo and Eriol's day-saving Christmas cake for dessert and pulled western-style crackers, a first for many of them (Fujitaka had brought them as a sort-of joke).

There then came the gift exchange in the evening, a while after dinner. They all sat in the living room and admired the tree while an unidentifiable song played softly in the background. Tomoyo and Sakura finally got to swap the various sparkly items they had bought each other (much to the mutual despair of their other halves) and exclaimed giddily over them.

They all sat and talked, played various silly games like charades and pictionary ("Come on, Yuki, you know what this is!" Touya growled as he stabbed his drawing with an annoyed finger. Poor Yuki looked genuinely confused as to what he should be seeing but anxious that he _should _be seeing something. "To-ya, er, is it a bird? A plane!" he attempted, and Syaoran snickered softly as he finished off with, "no, it's superman!" in a voice that only Sakura could hear. She smiled at him) and polished off the bottles of wine and sake that Yukito, Touya and Fujitaka had brought as a thank-you for dinner.

Christmas ended too fast for Sakura as she stood with Syaoran at their front door and waved goodnight to all her guests. As they walked away with their breath turning rapidly to little clouds of frost in the fresh, frigid air, Sakura had to fight a sudden unreasonable impulse to cry.

She stared after them into the darkness for what seemed like only a few minutes, however she discovered that it had been much longer when Syaoran tapped her on the shoulder and murmured, "Sakura, dear, you'll catch a chill standing there like that."

She nodded; snapped suddenly out of her reverie, and closed the door softly. When she turned to Syaoran she saw that he had gone to the kitchen and fetched two glasses of water in the time that had lapsed. He handed one to her. He looked troubled.

"To counteract the alcohol," he explained, and she nodded before taking a sip. It was clear and cold and almost stung her throat after the lazy, soothing numbness induced by the alcohol.

A silence settled around them like a blanket laying itself over their shoulders, and while it wasn't unpleasant, each wanted to break it but didn't know how.

"Well, that went… er… well, didn't it?" Syaoran asked.

Sakura turned to him and favored him easily with a brilliant beam of a smile.

"It did, didn't it?" she asked, sounding slightly surprised but unfailingly pleased at the same time as she snapped out of whatever thought had beckoned her into a slightly dazed state of complete contemplation.

Syaoran blinked and found himself smiling helplessly back at her after a moment – her smile was contagious; it pulled the corners of his mouth up without even his consent.

"Thank you so much for cooking such a wonderful dinner," Sakura said sincerely to him. "You really helped and just concentrated while I was busy falling apart and –"

That smile lifted her whole face again even as she tried to stop the wayward twitching of her lips. She grinned hopelessly at him.

"And it really did go so well, didn't it?" she asked, and she looked so absolutely and unstoppably full of joy and relief that it radiated out from her like sunrays. Syaoran could practically feel the warmth of them.

"Onii-chan didn't even kill you!" she continued cheerfully.

Behind her, it began to snow.

"Sakura," Syaoran murmured, and pointed behind her when he managed to successfully attract her attention. She cocked an eyebrow in a silent question and turned around slowly. She let out a cry of delight when she saw the snowflakes drifting down from the sky at a calm, leisurely pace. Snowdrifts. The garden would be covered in the morning.

"Oh, Syaoran, isn't this wonderful? A white Christmas, wow!" she whispered, sounding awed as she looked over her shoulder at him. Her face was flushed, either with the cold, the alcohol or sweet triumph, he wasn't sure. But he knew it was beautiful on her (_everything _was beautiful on her.)

"We'll be able to make snowmen in the morning," she said.

It occurred to him as they stood there in the doorway of their house, peering out into the night and watching the first gentle falls of snow, that this would be the perfect opportunity to tell her.

_'Sakura, I have a confession to make…'_

His hand came to rest gently, tentatively, on her shoulder. She made a little noise, but didn't turn to face him. He got together all his courage and steeled himself to let loose this most important secret…

…but Sakura spoke first.

"Merry Christmas, Syaoran," she said softly.

Syaoran closed his mouth and smiled wearily.

"Merry Christmas, Sakura," he told the back of her head.

Sakura began to sing a carol and when Syaoran whispered his most important secret into her hair, she didn't hear.

…

_AN: _I think, out of everything I've ever written, this is the longest amount of time a single chapter of ANYTHING has taken to write. (Of course, that said, this chapter probably only took about ten hours of actual solid labour in the end – it was the agonising and procrastinating and deleting and re-writing I did in-between that made it take… Er… .:checks:. Almost exactly four months! Wow, that was a long time, but I did imagine it was more like six or seven…

Anyway, I'll try to be prompter next time, but no promises .:winces:. It **should** have another chapter in time for its second (SECOND! Wow!) birthday on Jan 1st. I do still love you all.

Shattered Midnight Dreams…zzz…

Because life's like that sometimes …


	11. Here Comes The Sun

_The insane musings of the authoress: _It's been too long a while, chickens. I always say I'll be speedier next time and I think everyone's stopped believing me. So, suggestion – just enjoy each update as you get it, for you don't know when the next will be. This time, I'm aiming to get the next chapter out before September. If I don't, I shall have failed.

Things start really moving onwards in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. We are (hopefully) coming close to our ending, my dears.

Never forget that I have never abandoned this fic! Updates are slow but they will not stop until the fic is finished. I solemnly swear I will not abandon it.

_Special thanks to: _Everybody who is in any way connected to this fic. I love you all so madly. But especially Diana, because she deserves all the thanks I can pour out for all she does for me.

_Disclaimer: _CCS is not mine, it belongs to CLAMP.

_Butterflies: In Spring_

_Chapter Eleven_

_Here Comes The Sun_

"Here comes the sun, everybody!" Tomoyo exclaimed excitedly, eyes trained on the horizon. Eriol looked up distractedly from the piece of Syaoran's 'New Year's' cake that he was currently devouring like a dog that hadn't been fed for a week.

"Yay!" he said indistinctly, spraying chocolate-flavoured crumbs. Sakura and Syaoran simply smiled and waited.

"Look, any second now!" Tomoyo went on, pointing. Syaoran frowned at the fire he'd set up in a brazier – it was going out. Meanwhile, Sakura frowned at Syaoran's scarf, which was coming undone.

"I really should go put more wood on the –"

He stopped short when Sakura reached decisively over and rewound his scarf tightly around his neck. As it so happened, it was one she'd knitted when she'd gone through a phase around the time they'd married, during which she had probably spent more time knitting than she had doing anything else. It was completely ridiculous, now that she thought of it, but at least she hadn't been too bad at it, and Syaoran wore his scarf all the time.

She smoothed it with her clumsy, gloved hands.

"There," she said, satisfied.

"It was coming loose," she explained in an aside. "I hope I didn't wrap it so tightly it's choking you or anything!" she exclaimed worriedly.

Syaoran shook his head.

"No, it's fine. Thank you."

They smiled at each other. Tomoyo rolled her eyes.

"Look, will you two stop smiling soppily at each other, and will you _leave that piece of cake down, for goodness' sake, Eriol, _ because the sun's coming right now and we all need to watch it and make a wish!"

The effect was instantaneous and nothing short of miraculous. Eriol obediently put his cake down and scooted over to take his fiancée's hand (Tomoyo had to resist the urge to pat him on the head and say, 'good boy').

Sakura and Syaoran's eyes snapped abruptly from each other to the skyline. Tomoyo smiled smugly.

"Here it comes, everyone!" she said. "Make a wish!"

The sun had begun to rise slowly over the horizon, like an enormous, majestic bird of paradise spreading its wings. Sakura watched as the sky was slowly dyed red, orange and yellow. The sky looked like fire, looked like it was burning so far above them, and Sakura's breath stopped for a second.

_This is all new_, she thought. _This is this year, and it's separate to last year when all that crap happened, it's here and now and a whole new beginning and –_

Her eyes were drawn to Syaoran, who was watching the sunrise with a rapt expression.

- _somehow_ _I don't mind starting it off married to you_.

Shyly, she scooted quickly over to sit right next to him. Her thigh, in her haste, bumped his. She winced – _so much for being subtle, Sakura_. He blinked, startled, then smiled at her.

_Yes, everything's going to be alright._

…

"Honda-san, you look wonderful!" Sakura gushed as she hurried up to the bride. Honda Arisa turned, surprised, and smiled beautifully at Syaoran and Sakura.

"You made it!" she said, laughing, as she hugged Sakura carefully, mindful of her expensive wedding dress.

"Of course we made it!" Syaoran exclaimed, looking incredulous that she would even entertain the other possibility. Of course, if he was truthful, he and Sakura almost hadn't made it to the wedding – they'd been out in the garden that morning watching the sun come up when, at about eight A.M., Sakura had remembered that Honda-san and Ueda-san's wedding was, in fact, in two hours. Syaoran had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud as he remembered the scene – Sakura had run around like a headless chicken, and poor Eriol and Tomoyo had been unceremoniously booted out of the house to allow Sakura and Syaoran to get ready.

In fact, Sakura had been in such a flap; managing to ladder two pairs of tights as she yanked them on, lost her balance and fell over with a thump and running around wearing one preposterously high-heeled shoe and carrying the other with her hairdo half-done as her curling tongs smoked dangerously in a corner - that he wondered if he was going to have to _get her ready himself._

But they'd made it, only by the skin of their teeth and Sakura's uncanny ability to turn into the world's most dangerous speed junkie when she was late (_why _had he thought it would be a good idea to let her drive, again?) certainly; but he was so glad he hadn't missed this.

Honda-san did indeed look every inch the radiant bride. Having opted for a Western-style dress, just like Sakura's European inspired gown, she wore dazzling white from head to toe. Her long black hair, contrary to most brides', was loose and fell in curls to her waist. With the laced, medieval-style of her dress and her hair, she looked like Rapunzel, and Syaoran told her so, gruffly. She beamed like sunlight itself.

"It was a beautiful ceremony, Honda-san," Sakura continued as she smiled warmly at the young bride.

"Where's Ueda-san?" Syaoran asked her. Arisa's face softened almost imperceptibly at her husband's name.

"Oh, Kenji's talking to his great aunt," she explained. Her eyes were warm.

"Aw, look at her, going all gooey! I guess it's true love!" Sakura sang, a wicked glint in her eye. Arisa blushed. Syaoran rolled his eyes.

"So what now, Honda-san?" he asked her. Arisa blinked once, taken slightly by surprise.

"You mean after the wedding?" she asked. Syaoran nodded. Arisa laughed softly, her hand going to sheepishly scratch her neck. The blossoms she clutched shifted, and two white petals fell to the ground like the first tentative flakes of snowfall.

"I haven't even thought much beyond today, to be honest!" she exclaimed. She paused.

"It's all been so… Fast."

At that moment, Kenji came up behind her and settled a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Everything okay, Arisa?" he asked softly. Syaoran marvelled at how, even without a pet name, Kenji managed to convey a deep sense of his complete devotion to his wife in the way his voice caressed the syllables of her name – he said 'Arisa' like most men said 'money'.

There was a crease of concern between his eyes as he spoke. Arisa looked confused.

"Of course! I'm just talking to Sakura-san and Syaoran-san," she said. The worried look didn't fade from his face.

"Oh," he said, sounding a little distant as he sometimes did, with his calm, quiet voice, "that's good. It's just, I'm worried about you, you know? A wedding day's a lot of stress and the baby –"

Sakura and Syaoran froze. **_Baby!_** They looked at each other desperately, wondering if they should pretend they hadn't heard.

Arisa and Kenji blinked, confused, at their reaction, and then Arisa laughed.

"Oh, I keep forgetting people don't know!" she laughed. "I'm about eight weeks along. Found out a week ago." She touched her stomach, looked up at Kenji and beamed. He smiled back, so fondly that Syaoran found his lips twitching with the natural reaction to want to smile at how adorable the pair of them were.

"But Arisa, that's wonderful!" Sakura said, and Syaoran was surprised to hear her voice sound almost choked. Surely she wasn't about to… But she looked like she was. Her eyes were oddly glittery.

"Come here, I want to hug you again!" she exclaimed, and there was a definite sniff in her voice. She opened her arms and Arisa moved into them. Syaoran shook Kenji's hand.

"Congratulations," he said sincerely, and Kenji beamed. Syaoran wondered if all men who were going to be fathers smiled like that. Perhaps it was the equivalent of a secret handshake to get into the expectant dads' club.

Sakura had begun to cry into Arisa's hair. Syaoran only noticed when she laughed the shaky laugh of someone who wanted to stop crying but couldn't. He turned sharply to look at her.

"Sakura –" he began, worried and reaching a hand towards her.

Sakura shook her head and began to dig through her purse.

"Oh, I'm so silly!" she said, sniffling. "I'm not usually the sort to cry at weddings." She gave a watery smile and dabbed ineffectually at the corner of one of her eyes. Kenji, Arisa and Syaoran looked at her with concerned eyes. She clenched his fists around her tissue and willed her eyes to miraculously dry.

"I'm really sorry," she went on, looking frustrated at herself, "that was really stupid of me. Really. Please stop looking so worried, Honda-san! Sometimes PMS hits me this way, that's all – makes me weepy."

Arisa smiled her beautiful, 'I'm-a-bride-_and_-an-expectant-mother!' smile and touched her friend's back softly.

"That's okay, Sakura-san. It's okay."

…

They left a few hours later. Syaoran had treated Sakura like a piece of particularly delicate glass throughout dinner and the first few hours of the reception and she couldn't decide whether to be angry at him for it or touched.

Syaoran switched the car's headlamps on with a click.

"It's getting dark," he commented idly. Sakura, huddled under his heavy coat in the passenger's seat, nodded. Syaoran glanced sidelong at her fleetingly, then looked away when he met her eyes, glowing green in the dark like a cat's, pretending he hadn't done it. Sakura recognised that he was trying to gauge whether this was the right moment to launch an inquisition on her, and so she sighed and resigned herself to it. It was always going to have been just a matter of time, after all.

Syaoran turned left and checked in his wing mirror, then a crease appeared between his eyebrows.

"We going the right way?" he asked Sakura. His expression became sheepish and sweetly embarrassed. "Because I'm not sure."

A smile twitched onto Sakura's face.

"Yes, we are," she said comfortingly. "Don't worry. Just turn left here, alright?"

He nodded, as if he'd _really _known that all along and had just wanted Sakura's confirmation, and not that he hadn't had the faintest clue.

He stole another glance at her and sighed so deeply that Sakura couldn't stop her eyes from following the deep swell of his chest. He licked his lips and Sakura braced herself.

"Today," he began timidly," at the wedding… You were –"

He paused hopelessly, looking at her and moving his mouth like a particularly brain-dead fish. He knew what he was supposed to say next, godammit, but this was awkward and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer to his question anyway and the words just wouldn't come; lodged somewhere at the back of his throat. He hoped Sakura would step in and rescue him _soon_, or he was going to start making gargling sounds in place of real words. He had reason to worry – it had happened before.

"Crying?" she suggested. Syaoran could have kissed her. (Not, of course, that that made much of a change from his usual state of mind).

"Yes!" he said, hitting the steering wheel lightly in his relief. "That! Well, I was just w-w-wondering, you know, um… Why? Because I know weddings are emotional and maybe that's all it is and I completely respect that but maybe you're jealous or maybe, maybe you're just sad, Sakura, and I couldn't bear that. I don't want to see you sad…"

He shook his head in despair of himself.

"And I'm a moron and I suck at this. But I – um – I… I care about you, you know? A lot. And if you're sad I want to help fix it because you shouldn't have to be sad, I –"

He wrenched a fistful of hair in his hand.

"Godammit, Sakura, you shouldn't be sad," he said, and he looked at her, and she had to close her eyes and look away.

_Don't look at me like that, like you…_

Sakura began to draw a pattern in the condensation on her window, breath filling in the lines just as she finished drawing. She avoided his eyes.

"It's not simple jealousy," she said finally. "I mean, I guess I'm a little jealous – she's _pregnant _and I adore children, but it's just that –"

She suddenly felt silly and took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping in on herself. Syaoran said nothing, waiting, checking in his rear-view mirror and taking the left at the junction.

"It's just that… They're going to be so okay, you know? They're going to be… So beyond okay. And to be there, at just eighteen, and to know – to _know_ – that you've found the person that you want to be with for the rest of your life… To be married and pregnant and to _know _that this is you set, this is you sorted, this person is _the _person, your person…"

She paused. Out the window, the bright eyes of a wild fox shone sharply at her, flecks of light in the darkness. The glass was cold against her cheek.

"AndIsupposeIwonderifI'lleverbeokaylikethat," she finished in a rush, the words tripping over each other. She gave a long sigh at the end, feeling like a weight had suddenly been lifted off her chest when she hadn't even known it was there.

"It's just that I look at all the people I know – Terada-sensei and Rika-chan, married with a gorgeous six-week-old daughter, Eriol-kun and Tomoyo-chan, engaged for the last eternity, Chiharu-chan and Yamazaki-kun, an engagement announcement surely only at most a few months away, been together since they were ten, for Christ's sake!

And then there's me. And then there's _me_, married by accident and playing house like some stupid four-year-old – it's like I never grew beyond tea parties where the tea was made of air, and the reason I hate it the most is that I've no-one but myself to blame."

She screwed her eyes and her fists up tight, balled in her skirt so hard Syaoran could hear the material screaming. When a tear dribbled out from under her eyelid he knew she'd be kicking herself for it and so he pretended not to notice. _Who says chivalry is dead? _he thought.

It looked like her mascara was bleeding. For a few moments, silence reigned. Sakura's grip on her skirt relaxed marginally. The material breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well," Syaoran said finally, voice permeating a silence which seemed so fragile, so delicate, even though it was unintentional. His voice may as well have been a shriek, a scream, for the effect it had, shattering so cleanly.

Clearly slightly regretting getting himself into this now, he said, "you're only twenty yourself, Sakura – you have plenty of time for all that."

There was a moment where Sakura waited - and Syaoran knew she was waiting, they were waiting – until she felt her voice was strong enough to answer.

"It's not even that," she said, and her voice was not quite whole, scratchy and phlegmy-sounding in that way one expects of the recently crying, "it's just that I feel so… I feel so…"

She cleared her throat to try to make herself sound more together and less like she might start weeping again any second.

"Behind?" Syaoran suggests. "Lost?"

Sakura stopped, blinked, turned to him. He didn't turn his head to her but her eyes were so large and so wide and so green and so _hopeful_ and so broken and he thought _this is all my fault_ and...

Her eyes were like a sea and he was drowning, minute by minute by minute. He was falling away, and he wasn't even fighting the current.

"I didn't think you'd –" _Stop. Start again. _"I – I mean, I… Syaoran, I didn't know how much you –" she paused, lost for words. Stopped. Looked to him. Like a little child – _fix me, please. I'm so broken._

"Understood?" he suggested lightly, faintest trace of a smirk or maybe a smile, the sentiment's misplaced in her mind anyway, curved his mouth as he turned left at this crossroads. "Clearly I understand more than you think, Sakura."

The car's headlights bounced light off a stone wall, ricocheted onto an old tree, gnarled and old with dark awful black holes eaten into it.

This is the sort of night she hated, feared, as a child. _Who knows what could be living in that tree?_

Now she fears different things – different, but no less terrifying.

"I – I do feel lost," she began timidly, wondering briefly when this had turned into an all-out confessathon, "I feel behind, because they're where they are now and I have so much… Ground to make up, you know? And Christ, I'm making life sound like some stupid race when of course it's not just that… It's just that I have to get divorced and deal with all the crap that's going to come from that, I don't think I really thought about how hard it's going to be to explain to 'tou-san that my marriage has 'collapsed' when _I_ know it wasn't even real to start with, but he's going to think I'm heartbroken, and I can just see his face crumple – for _me_."

It felt to Sakura like she'd opened the gates to a flood, and now that all _this_ was flowing to the surface, she couldn't stop it. She wanted to – she didn't particularly love the idea of Syaoran knowing any of this – but she couldn't.

"Well," Syaoran said, his voice deceptively light, "seems to me like there's a perfect solution to this – we just won't get divorced."

Sakura looked at him for one second, then let out all her breath in an explosion of laughter that felt like it would never stop. Her ribs hurt, her lungs hurt, her _kidneys_ hurt, but she couldn't stop. Tears ran down her face. She was slightly hysterical – this was a mix of misery and having her funnybone hit just right and – if she was honest – more than just a smidge of PMS, rushing out screaming all at once.

"Oh – oh Syaoran," she said, when she could trust herself to speak, and she had calmed down enough so that the remains of her hysteria was nothing more than intermittent hiccoughs, "that's just… Well, thank you for cheering me up. I needed a good laugh."

Syaoran turned to her. Sakura knew, in the anxious sick-making twisting of her stomach and the shape of his mouth that something was coming and she wasn't going to like it when it did.

"I wasn't kidding," he said, and sure enough she didn't like it. The world skidded to a halt. Sakura could feel her blood move sluggishly in her veins, a slow, constant throb in her ears. She couldn't breathe. All she could see were Syaoran's eyes, amber and grave and defeated and sad.

_To be continued…_


	12. Meltdown

**.author's notes.** Super super short this time, to introduce our final few chapters. We're coming to the end, my darlings! Not much longer to go.

**.dedication.** For Diana. Naturally.

**.disclaimer.** I do not own CCS.

**.butterflies: in spring.**

**.chapter twelve.**

**.meltdown.**

Sakura couldn't speak. In her mind, the sound of a pane of glass shattering happened over and over again, and she had no idea why.

"Sakura, I," Syaoran began, throwing his hand into his hair and grabbing a handful, twisting it so hard she was sure it had to hurt, "okay, I'm tired of this, so I'm just going to come out and say it – I love you. I've loved you for a long time. I don't know how many times I've tried to say it and been stopped – either by my famous lack of courage or my good sense. And I know this isn't the best time, but it's the truth and you deserve to know the truth. I think you're incredible. I think you're beautiful. I think you're the most infuriating, most loveable, funniest person I've ever met."

Sakura was underwater. They were both underwater. Just blinking seemed to take an eternity. She felt light-headed. She was frozen. She was… going to throw up. Later, Sakura would thank her lucky stars that it was that moment Syaoran pulled the car up in front of the house.

Sakura wrenched her door open and vomited violently onto their driveway. Then, before Syaoran could even release his seatbelt, Sakura had swung her legs out of the car, hopped neatly over the puddle of vomit, and disappeared into the night.

…

She ran and ran and ran in her uncomfortable high heels and didn't stop until she reached Tomoyo and Eriol's house. She banged on the front door until it was answered by Tomoyo, wearing a dressing-gown and looking like she'd just woken from an evening nap.

Tomoyo had appeared in the doorway like a guardian angel with a grumpy face, obviously ready to yell at whatever rude person had woken her. However, her mouth fell into a perfect 'o' shape, the anger draining from her expression when she saw Sakura on her doorstep, shaking with the force of her tears.

"S-S-Syaoran s-said he l-l-loves me," Sakura explained, through snuffles, through choking.

Tomoyo moved forward and folded her best friend into the comforting warmth of her breast.

…

Syaoran rested his head against the cool metal of the car bodywork.

"I am the stupidest person who ever lived," he announced bitterly to no-one, and he meant it.

…


	13. Unlucky Thirteen

**.author's notes.** Yes, it's been a while. No, I have not died. No, I do _not _plan on abandoning this fic. Ever. You can hold me to that – I WILL finish this thing.

**.disclaimer.** CCS belongs to CLAMP, not me.

**.dedication.** for Diana, who cares more than I ever have about this fic.

…

**.butterflies: in spring. **

**.chapter thirteen.**

**unlucky** **thirteen**

…

The house was still and quiet. Eriol had been awoken by the sounds of a gabbling Sakura telling the story in rushes around a handful of tissues, between rib-cracking sobs, and was obediently brewing everyone a tenth cup of coffee. (He tried to put forward his theory that this would just turn Sakura from a sobbing, slimy wet wreck into that crazy hummingbird mode caffeine made her go into, but Tomoyo kind of glared at him and he quietened for a while. Of course, a while meant about five minutes.)

"But Tomoyo!" he whined, "do you remember the last time she got coffee-high? Our soft furnishings will not be able to survive!"

When Sakura drank a lot of coffee, she cleaned. When Sakura was upset, she cleaned. This was all a very scary equation. Eriol felt quite faint at the thought! Although that could have been the fact that he forwent dinner to have a nap.

Yeah. Probably that.

And, in fact, he'd been interrupted from his nap, so now he just kind of felt grumpy and hungry and cranky rather in the manner of a three-year-old interrupted during quality Nap Time snuggled next to a well-loved, threadbare security blanket. And what was _wrong_ with Sakura, anyway? Why the hell was she snivelling like that? Only Tomoyo could understand her when she tried to talk during a crying jag. Well, Tomoyo and several species of small dog.

"Andthenee, eesaid'e - -" she paused to wail loudly.

Bats. Definitely bats. Or something else that communicated via high-pitched shrieks and unintelligible whines. Dolphins? No, they made more sense.

"LOVED ME!"

Oh. _OH. _Eriol dropped his coffee mug and it clattered loudly into the sink. He turned wide, incredulous eyes on his fiancée.

"_Oh my God_!" he mouthed, and Tomoyo made desperate, eye-widening twitches that seemed to amount to 'shut up right now please.'

He didn't.

Because oh, he never did.

"Sakura-san, I'm so sorry," he began, sliding round to sit on one of the table's vacant chairs.

Tomoyo's eye twitches now said, 'FORGET ABOUT PLEASE - JUST SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH.'

Eriol ignored them. He felt he had to say _something_.

"I – I knew."

Sakura's head whipped around from its position buried angstily in Tomoyo's shoulder to focus on him with eyes intent as lasers.

"_What?" _she demanded, spitting the word like venom. Eriol recoiled instinctively. She had never looked more like a pissed-off Tomoyo that she did right then.

"He told me before he told you. And if I had known he was going to tell you – and if I'd known that knowledge would upset you so much – I would have told you. But I honestly didn't think he'd tell you! I swear!"

He wondered if it would be completely inappropriate to duck and cover his manly bits.

Sakura deflated visibly, sagging and folding in on herself like the balloon left, forgotten, behind the sofa at the kids' party, only to be discovered well past its best three weeks too late.

It was quite sad.

"It's okay," she said, sounding suddenly tired as she massaged the bridge of her nose like she was fighting the beginnings of a headache. "It's not your fault, Eriol-kun."

Tomoyo was silent, her eyes dark like she was contemplating the greatest mysteries of the universe and they were laughing contemptuously in her face.

"What are you going to do?" she asked finally, in a steady calm voice.

Sakura looked lost, little and small and lost.

"I don't know," she replied, green eyes wide and fearful, swimming (drowning) in a violent, unfriendly sea.

…

Syaoran's life has taken on a – frankly rather darkly hilarious – twist. He was stupid and he thought of their story as a fairytale – she was his princess, though he couldn't have called himself a prince. Perhaps he was a commoner, or a farm boy, who got lucky and curried the princess's favour?

Anyway, one day he thought he would tell her he loved her, after they had gone through this most modern of fairytales – hating, then moving towards something else and learning to get along with each other throughout the most bizarre of circumstances, including a fake wedding – and that… Would be that.

They'd have their happily ever after.

'_The Story of Sakura and Syaoran' _is without a doubt the worst fairytale never told.

And here is why.

…

Sakura fell asleep at Eriol and Tomoyo's kitchen table, literally mid-sentence, her face propped on her hand.

"She's had a long and traumatic day," Tomoyo said as she fussed around, clucking like a mother hen as she rustled through cupboards for clean blankets with which to make up the spare bed in the guest room. Eriol peered thoughtfully at Sakura's tired face. She looked oddly drawn, yet still in sleep she looked more peaceful than she had since she'd arrived, her brow smooth for the first time, as though she had been deeply instilled with a sense of calm. She looked positively placid compared to before.

Later, Tomoyo pronounced the room ready, and Eriol scooped Sakura from her position sleeping at the table and staggered up the stairs with her – the girl had the delicate bones of a tiny bird, but her fragility was deceptive; she was heavy enough. Eriol wondered idly if she'd been partaking of Syaoran's good cooking a little too often, and there was an unexpectedly sharp pang somewhere in his chest.

Syaoran.

How on Earth would he be taking this? Eriol sighed deeply. The man was head over heels for Sakura; the fact was plain as day to anyone who cared to even glance. He adored her. How the hell would he come to terms with the notion that his telling Sakura he loved her had caused her such obvious distress? And how distressed must he himself be feeling, at making her leave him? Eriol knew that Syaoran would have kept this truth all to himself if he'd known he would lose Sakura over it. He'd told Eriol himself that he could no longer bear to be apart from her – to him, it would be worth it to suffer in silence, if it meant that she would still be next to him.

But now… Eriol just didn't know. Could they ever come back from this? Would Syaoran ever be truly able to forgive Sakura this treachery, and could he ever be certain of any love she professed after this episode?

He looked down at Sakura's beautiful, sleeping face. _You've caused so much trouble, _he thought.

So much was on the line here. They would just have to wait and see how it would all turn out.

…

Sakura, Tomoyo and Eriol ate breakfast all together at the table the next morning. Sakura was last up by a sizeable margin and so, by the time she trudged in, zombie-like and her early-morning coiffure in its customary imitation of a bird's nest; Tomoyo had already stationed herself making pancakes, wearing an apron that was far too big and emblazoned with the words _Kiss The Chef! _in obnoxiously large, bold black type. It clearly belonged to Eriol. Even if the size hadn't given her a clue, the cheery, oblivious idiocy of the message would have given it away.

Suddenly she missed Syaoran.

She thumped down into a seat with the kind of grace only beheld by early morning. Tomoyo turned from her pan with a dazzling, carefully calculated smile – Sakura was being perceived as delicate and fragile in this situation, and – this surprised her, but – she was grateful for Tomoyo and Eriol's oddly extravagant attempt at normalcy.

"Would you like some pancakes, Sakura-chan?" she asked.

Sakura shook her head fuzzily and then attempted to bury her face into the wood of the table. Tomoyo's voice had, just for a second, taken on the exact timbre of Syaoran's in her head.

And she couldn't bear it.

She'd woken that morning from a dream in which she had lived out an ordinary day with Syaoran. They'd woken up together in their bed. Syaoran had made breakfast. They'd left for work, running late as usual. They had attended several boring meetings and whiled away a long afternoon throwing balls of paper at the backs of each other's heads- well, Sakura had, at any rate. It had required stealth and speed. And a lot of pointing out imaginary things to Syaoran through their window. Syaoran was such a trusting man, he fell for it every time. But he never rebuked her too fiercely.

While Sakura was typing, Syaoran had looked too long and hard at her face.

They'd come home and Syaoran made dinner and the whole thing was ruined because of some confusing mishap involving flooding their bathroom because of giant moths (Sakura didn't understand that part, of course dreams are never completely mundane and normal) so Sakura had called for takeout.

They'd eaten straight from the cartons, snuggled under a duvet (which smelt of Sakura's perfume) on the couch, and had fallen asleep, warm and full and happy, during a commercial break in some dumb action movie they'd been making fun of.

In that dream, she had been happy.

Sakura woke up with tears all over her face and in her mouth and gluing her eyelids shut. And after a disorientating moment when she registered slowly that Syaoran was not lying beside her, solid and warm and smelling of mint and freshly mown lawns; and this was in fact not her room, with its neutral white and blue walls and vase of jaunty sunflowers on the windowsill; and the faint voices emanating from downstairs were not the voices she was used to waking up to; the memories of what had happened yesterday crashed all around her.

It was possible – no, probable – (no, definite) that her life would never be that dream again. She wanted to haul the fresh-smelling covers over her head and sleep and possibly never get up again, but she didn't want to worry Tomoyo any more than she already had, so she forced herself downstairs.

Tomoyo looked worriedly at the top of Sakura's honey-coloured head and glanced at Eriol. Eriol shook his head.

"Don't worry," he said softly, obviously optimistic that Sakura would, for some reason, not hear. "She's just not awake yet. She'll be okay."

When Sakura looked up, a minute later, Tomoyo and Eriol's heads were bent together in a kiss. Both of their mouths were smiling. They looked perfect, Tomoyo in Eriol's apron and Eriol's newspaper forgotten on the table-top in favour of his beautiful fiancée.

In the face of this domestic bliss, Sakura swallowed hard and looked away; pretending she hadn't seen even as her throat closed and her eyes stung with tears.

…

Breakfast was a nervous, jumpy, disjointed affair. Eriol and Tomoyo were just waiting for Syaoran to burst in and demand that his wife come home with him so they could talk. It wasn't that they were afraid of what Syaoran might do, only of how Sakura would react, and how it would affect her.

They actually couldn't believe he hadn't come for her yet. He had to know where she was. That he would know where she was and not even _call _–not even just to see if she was okay – was bewildering.

Unless Syaoran was doing as Eriol suspected, and staying well away for now until Sakura sorted her own head out. She knew the truth, and what she did with it now was her choice. Really, he'd done all he could. Any conclusions Sakura reached now would be entirely her own – nothing he could say would make any difference.

It was the smart thing to do, but Eriol could not even begin to imagine how painful it had to be, knowing your love was a few minutes away and knowing she was confused and afraid – and even knowing you were the cause of that confusion, that fear – and not being able to go to her, and having to tell yourself it was the only viable option even though your heart was breaking.

Breakfast, however, passed entirely without consequence, even as they held their breath over the syrup and took turns glancing nervously at both the phone and the door. Gradually, as it became ever more apparent that Syaoran had no intention of bursting in like a medieval prince rescuing a damsel in distress from a fortress, they began to relax.

Still, to Eriol, Sakura looked deeply distressed. She barely picked at the pancake Tomoyo had shoved in front of her so decisively that there was no room for argument, and she looked miserable without her usual sunny disposition shining.

The sight was putting his fiancée off her breakfast, too. Finally, she heaved a heavy sigh, gave up and rested her fork against her plate. She went to the phone out in the hall and called in sick to Sakura's office on her behalf.

"I told them you had flu," she said upon return. "And that you might be home for a couple of days as it seemed pretty serious."

Sakura nodded gratefully. She looked exhausted.


	14. A Fish, a Pretzel and an Irishman

**.author's notes.** Haha, so, funny story – that cliffhanger everyone ranted about at the end of chapter thirteen? That was completely unintentional. Yeah. The site cut off the last third of my chapter, and no matter what I did, I couldn't fix it. I had to leave it as it was, I don't know why the site wouldn't let me fix it.

ANYWAY, this means you get a super-short chapter fourteen which isn't really chapter fourteen at all. It's a pain in the ass, I know – I didn't want to do another short chapter after chapter twelve - but there's nothing else for it. There's a time jump at the beginning of the real chapter fourteen, which is why I can't just meld this on to the start of that. Godammit, that's going to be chapter fifteen now… Bugger, that messes everything up.

I recommend going back and re-reading the end of chapter thirteen before reading this, as this obviously picks up pretty abruptly from the fake ending.

**.disclaimer.** CCS belongs to CLAMP, not me.

**.dedication.** Diana. Of course.

**.butterflies: in spring.**

**.chapter fourteen.**

**.a fish, a pretzel, and an irishman walk into a bar.**

"What do you MEAN she's not with you?" he exploded. "I held off calling because I didn't want to crowd her, and it turns out she's NOT THERE? What the fuck am I going to do now? In fact, why the fuck am I wasting time still talking to you? I'm going to go find her! I can't fucking believe it –"

"Wait!" Eriol shouted before Syaoran hung up the phone. The sound of Syaoran's heavy, angry, crazy breathing told Eriol he'd bought himself a couple of seconds, starting _now_.

"I lied," he hissed miserably into the phone, darting covert looks around to make sure Tomoyo would not overhear. His dear fiancée would certainly not approve. "She's here."

Eriol could see in his mind's eye Syaoran sag with relief, hear the righteous anger and anxiety seep slowly out of him.

He imagined Syaoran would look tired and crumpled now. That was almost no better.

"I knew she would be," Syaoran said quietly. "I know her."

Eriol's heart broke for the second time.

"Can I just speak to her?" he asked.

Eriol bit his lip. Eriol chewed his lip.

"Syaoran-kun, I'm sorry, but I can't let you."

Eriol broke through the skin of his lip. Eriol tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

"Why? Why not?" Syaoran didn't even sound angry. He just sounded desperate. "I'm her husband! And more than that, I love her. Eriol-kun, I love her more than I can say. You know, you understand- this is how you feel about Tomoyo-san. Eriol-kun, I'll do anything, please…" His voice was rough with unshed tears.

"Syaoran-kun… I can't. I'm only following instructions. I can tell you she's safe. We're looking after her. She will be all right." He was startled to feel tears rolling down his own face. He pressed his fingertips to them in wonderment.

"She'd be more all right if I'd just kept my stupid mouth shut," Syaoran said bitterly.

"No, Syaoran-kun. You'd felt this way for long enough. You can rest safely in the knowledge that you've done all you can. It's up to Sakura now. She just needs some time to herself."

Syaoran considered this.

"Tell her… Tell her I'm sorry."

Eriol managed to finish up the call without promising anything of the sort. He had no intention of telling Sakura that her husband had called.

After he hung up, his heart shattered cleanly into pieces upon pieces upon pieces.

…

The next issue didn't present itself until a week later. Sakura was still living with Tomoyo and Eriol; getting by with wearing Tomoyo's clothes and buying all-new toiletries from the pharmacy down the street, as she couldn't go home for her things- Syaoran would be there, after all.

Sakura hadn't spoken to him since the night she'd run away. Syaoran called the house every night, and Eriol managed a quick conversation while Tomoyo made sure Sakura was safely out of earshot. (Tomoyo had tried to talk to him once, but she had been unable to stop crying throughout the call, and so Eriol took over the duty, although it often left him miserable).

Syaoran had stopped asking to speak to his wife. He simply asked Eriol how she was, and if she was eating enough. How her day had been. Whether she ever mentioned him. Syaoran sounded so lost, and so longing, that it killed Eriol. He gave the best answers he could.

"I think she misses you," he said as often as possible, because it heartened Syaoran and it was true - it was clear as day to Tomoyo and Eriol that Sakura missed Syaoran enormously, although she never said it aloud.

However, that night a week after Sakura had run away, Syaoran had casually asked Eriol how long he thought Sakura would be staying with them.

Truthfully, the question had caught him off guard. Syaoran must have taken his silence to mean something else, and hurriedly said, "don't worry, I'm not expecting her to come home to me any time soon or anything, I'm just worried about her, so –"

Eriol shook his head, forgetting that Syaoran couldn't see him.

"It's not that. It's just… I actually truly don't know how long she'll stay here."

They said their goodbyes and still Eriol wondered about it. Sakura… She'd have to stay here with them; there was no other alternative. She couldn't go and stay in her father's house or her brother's; because that would invite unwanted questions about just _why _she had run away from her husband.

There was no real problem about her staying at the Hiiragizawas' (well, Tomoyo was practically a Hiiragizawa already, Eriol thought happily), only that somebody who shouldn't was bound to find out at some point, and it would look very strange to anyone that Sakura was no longer living at home with her husband. The only real solution would be to move Syaoran out of the house as well, and to feed everyone a story that they were going on an extended holiday, so please not to bother calling by the house.

But that was complicated, and Syaoran hardly needed the aggravation of moving out into a hotel or something on top of a broken heart.

Eriol sighed. At least it still looked as though Sakura lived there, as she hadn't taken any of her stuff. Hopefully Syaoran would be able to keep up the pretence that Sakura was just out every time someone called in to see them.

Again, this all came down to Sakura. The faster she woke up and realised that she loved Syaoran, the easier this would be on everyone.

…

It was by unspoken agreement, then, that Sakura began to live at the Hiiragizawa residence. After the first week and a half of lying around and not eating much, she began to get her appetite back. She worked around the house during the day instead of going to the office. She was cheerful and unfailingly polite and helpful. She was desperate not to bother Eriol and Tomoyo more than she already was. She was quiet and tried to stay out of their way, even when they tried to invite her to join them.

She did not talk about her husband, or anything to do with him – including any feelings she may or may not have towards him – she did not talk about her work, or how she was going to avoid having to eventually go back to work and see Syaoran; she did not talk about how long she would stay or when- if, indeed, ever – she would go back to her home with her husband.

Just as they had for that first week and a half, Eriol and Tomoyo took everything day by day, a tiny step at a time. They trusted that, in the end, when it counted, she would make the right decision.

…


	15. The Bar is Called Life, That's Important

**.author's notes.** Told you not to worry, didn't I? Just keep holding on. By next September, we'll definitely be done. It's just slow going.

**.disclaimer.** CCS belongs to CLAMP.

**.special thanks.** To everyone who's reading, thank you for your continuing, unmatched patience. You are all complete stars.

**.dedication.** For Di, obviously; and for the wedded bliss she brings XD

**.butterflies: in spring.**

**.chapter fifteen.**

**.it is important to remember that the bar is called life.**

There were some things that Tomoyo had always known to be wrong. One of these things concerned lying.

This is crucial- Tomoyo was a firm supporter of lying. Little white lies. When they were due. In her opinion, if everyone in the whole world were to be completely honest with each other, the world would be an even more miserable and horrible place than it already was.

Imagine the carnage created by the following scene – a woman asks her boyfriend if he likes the corny Valentines' Day gift she got him, and he says no. Add in this variable: the gift was a barbershop quartet sent to his place of work to sing him a terrible medley of 90s pop love songs, loud enough for all his co-workers to hear. The point is, _obviously _the guy hated the gift. It was terrible! But apart from her dreadful taste in music and gifts, he loves his girlfriend. So why on earth should he mess that up by telling her the truth, especially when the awful, embarrassing singing has already happened?

So he lies, tells her yes, he loved it, sweetie; and they _don't_ break up, and live happily ever after the end.

Tomoyo knew you shouldn't lie about some things. The big things.

Tomoyo knew for certain that she probably shouldn't have called Sakura's office up and said Sakura had been in a (minor) car crash.

And yes, Tomoyo knew she definitely shouldn't have pretended to be a doctor. Doctor Mendax. Who delivered a diagnosis that Sakura was suffering from post-traumatic stress and probably wouldn't be in for at least another two weeks.

Tomoyo knew she shouldn't have done all that. Even if it was for the Greater Good (Sakura-chan). Even though her pseudonym was quite witty, making herself 'Doctor Liar' (those endless, supposedly pointless Latin classes had been good for something, after all). Even if she told herself she couldn't really be blamed that the secretary at Sakura's office had been dumb enough to just take her word for it.

She felt bad nonetheless. The secretary had been beside herself with worry and horror at the news, and Tomoyo was sure Ueda-san would be the same.

In fact, Tomoyo felt awful. Still, Tomoyo was an advocate for lying.

When it was due. Like now.

…

Syaoran's life took on a whole new routine. He woke up in the morning, alone. He cooked and ate breakfast, alone. He got washed and dressed and left for work, alone. He walked into the office and sat down at his desk and worked, alone. He attended meetings, alone.

In the empty office hours, he wrote Sakura letter after letter after letter and never sent any of them.

He went home and he changed into his pyjamas and he ate soggy cornflakes for dinner every night in front of bad 70s sitcoms, alone. He thought about what parts Sakura would laugh at. He fell asleep on the sofa at two A.M. and dreamt bad dreams and woke up with salt in his mouth.

…

Weeks passed and they were cold and empty. Sakura lived at the Hiiragizawas' and Syaoran called every single night. Sakura never spoke to him, though by now of course she had worked out that he called.

Sakura missed Syaoran, but secretly, she had come to a decision.

…

Tomoyo and Eriol knew well that time was running out on Sakura and Syaoran's sham marriage. _Why _hadn't Sakura come to her senses yet?

They had whispered conversations about it every night as they lay in bed and Sakura – presumably – lay sleeping along the hall. As the weeks marched on, their conversations became more frequent, their whispers more anxious.

"Should we step in and do something?" Eriol began to ask. Tomoyo looked at him in his reading glasses and felt as though her heart might explode for love of him; the way he touched her cheek and the way he talked to his hair in the morning, the unruly bit which never lay flat for him, as if that would finally convince it when liberal amounts of gel would not – his shoulders, broad and pale and freckled in the bedside lamplight, the shade of his eyes when she wore his favourite black nightgown to bed.

_This is how Syaoran feels for Sakura_, she thought.

"No," she said, chewing worriedly a mouthful of hair, for still Tomoyo had faith in her best friend. "Any day now, it will all be over, I am certain. Stepping in now would mean ruin."

…

Syaoran came home every day to an empty, lifeless, colourless house. He began to feel oddly furtive in his own home, reluctant to make any kind of noise. It seemed as though he began to try to live as little as possible.

The house had died the day Sakura left, he knew, and sometimes he wondered if he had done the same. Now, it felt to Syaoran as though it was lying dormant, sleeping, waiting for Sakura to come home to them.

Just as he was.

Strangely, for a little while, he had come home to a clutter of brightly-coloured 'Get Well' cards on the carpet in the hall, for Sakura from people at work who seemed to think Sakura had been in a car accident. He'd been frantic the first day, of course, but a quick call to Tomoyo and Eriol's later revealed the whole thing was false.

He'd got used to them. Now, there wasn't even that.

…

A month had already passed. It was early February. The air turned ever colder, but Sakura seemed colder still. She ate, but she grew thinner despite it.

February, bitter February, melted into March. Birds built nests in the garden and Sakura spent her days gardening and running errands for the endlessly kind Eriol and Tomoyo.

The world was waking up after winter, but to Tomoyo and Eriol, Sakura seemed as asleep as ever.

…

There was a bottle of her perfume sitting, open and wafting its scent, on the bedside table in their room. It was a beautiful little bottle, carved painstakingly from green glass. He bought if for her for some occasion, he can't remember what now – or maybe it hadn't been for an occasion at all, maybe it was just because he loved her.

When you love, such lines become blurred.

It smelt like sunlight on water, like the very freshest spring days, like light through grass; the air on the most vivid, brightest day of your life, picnicking with your love. The name was something in French and Syaoran didn't understand, but Sakura had asked Tomoyo about it, and she had known.

"_**L'Amour** **d'une Papillon - **A Butterfly's Love_," she had read dreamily, her voice curling around the italic script as she translated seamlessly, "_soft, and fleeting, and pure, and whole."_

Syaoran had rolled his eyes and said something to the effect of _trust the French to be so stupidly poncey, who the hell would name a perfume something ridiculous like that? A Butterfly's Love?_

But Sakura's eyes had lit up and then Tomoyo had got that suspicious look in hers, like something intelligent which knows too much and knows that everyone _else _knows she knows too much and doesn't care; and she eyed Syaoran thoughtfully and he had not been able to hold her gaze.

She wore that perfume every single day, and now he wondered why. Couldn't she see the hidden love written on that gift, and didn't her acceptance of it… Didn't that have to _mean something_? Was she not accepting that meaning by wearing it so happily?

And secretly he knew: no. Because he never said a word to her. This was the first fairytale ever where the "prince" was too scared to tell his glorious princess how he felt.

Was it because he didn't love her enough? No, it was because he loved her too much.

…

Syaoran let himself be tortured by that accursed perfume for one whole month after Sakura moved out, until one day he snapped and threw the bottle out the window, where it smashed satisfyingly on the pavement below.

But this, this you must understand: he did this not out of hate for Sakura, but for himself.

…

Mid-April already and Sakura and Syaoran were due to get divorced late May. Tomoyo and Eriol had the date ringed on a calendar in their room, which they kept carefully hidden from Sakura. The red Xs marking off the days were coming closer and closer and so close they could no longer pretend to ignore it.

They tried to make jokes about it.

"Sakura-chan's sure cutting it fine, isn't she!"

"Well, you know Sakura-san - she'll be leaving it until the last minute, to build suspense! Such a drama queen! Ha ha ha."

Ha ha ha.

…

April 20th turned out to be a day Tomoyo was fairly sure she would never forget as long as she lived.

Sakura announced that morning at breakfast that she had what she termed as 'Big News'. (Tomoyo reflected bitterly now that she didn't explain just _how _'Big'.)

She'd said it could wait until later; but something like this coming from the newly quiet, pale, drawn, hollow Sakura was too much to wait for. There was a spark of something in her eyes when they thought all light in them had been snuffed out. They had to grab this while it was still there.

"I called my office this morning, to resign," she said first, voice quiet, her eyes glued to the breakfast she had been half-heartedly picking at; as if she couldn't bear to look at her friends.

Tomoyo's mouth was hanging open in shock, and she knew she should probably be encouraging Sakura and this display of bald horror was _not _the way to do it; but she had suddenly lost all feeling in her jaw.

"But, but Sakura-chan!" she managed to splutter finally, exchanging one long, panicked look with her husband-to-be as she did so. "You love that job! And you're so good at it!"

_And what the hell is the point in resigning NOW, after lying and everything all this time, when you'll be back living with Syaoran in your little fairytale about a week from now, and you'll be able to go to work without a problem anyway?_

"Well," she said, raising her eyes to meet Tomoyo and Eriol's gaze slowly, like it was an effort to uphold those fiery, defiant eyes (which it probably was), "it's going to be too far to travel from my new place, anyway."

Tomoyo stared. She couldn't help it. She felt like she'd just had a heart attack. Her blood was rushing in her ears, maybe she hadn't heard properly.

Eriol asked before she got a chance to.

"What was that, Sakura-san dear?" he asked, incredulous but still sounding perfectly calm, which was more than Tomoyo would have been able to manage. She would probably have sounded strangled.

"Oh! I've been making arrangements the past few days, finalising plans to rent this nice little apartment- "

That was enough. Tomoyo choked on nothing but perhaps her own overwhelming shock.

"WHAT? When did you - How did you – Rewind a second – I…"

Sakura smiled.

"The last few weeks, I hired a realtor to take me round some properties during the day while you were at work. I didn't want to let you in on what I was doing- I wanted it to be a surprise!"

_Either that or you knew I wouldn't let you even think of doing such a thing, had it been brought to my attention_, Tomoyo thought sourly.

"And we finalised a lease, and, well, I'm moving in on Thursday." Sakura's brightness seemed more forced than ever, as though she knew exactly what Eriol and Tomoyo thought of this latest development. She smiled and took a bite of the casserole steaming on her plate.

"Sakura-chan," and Tomoyo tried to sound calm and rational, she really did, "today is _Tuesday_."

That is, Tomoyo tried to sound calm and rational even though she was spazzing out inside. The part of her she liked to call Sergeant Major Tomoyo was throwing a fit – all the preparation required for someone to move home! The details! Getting mail forwarded! Having to lodge a new address with a million different places with a million sets of your details! The packing! (and inevitably this took forever and was done in several long stages) And of course, this would be made MORE difficult by the little fact that, oh yeah, all Sakura's stuff was with her estranged fake husband in a house she now refused to set foot in.

Plus there was the simple matter of informing said estranged husband that the woman he loved was moving away to an apartment somewhere, and she wouldn't be telling him where that was.

This was worse than those daytime soap operas Eriol videotaped and then pretended not to cry over.

Sakura tried to look apologetic with her mouth full of casserole.

"I know, I know!" she said with a fake little laugh after she'd swallowed and dabbed her mouth demurely with a napkin. "But you know what the real estate market's like here! I have to grab this place before it's gone!"

Tomoyo said nothing. Apparently Tomoyo did not need to say anything as Sakura spoke again anyway.

"Tomoyo-chan. Darling. I don't know why you look so shocked," she said softly, reaching out to touch her best friend's face. "I could hardly stay here forever!" She chuckled, but it was sad and hollow.

"Yes! Yes, you could! Oh, Sakura-chan, love, stay here! Stay living here! All three of us could live here like roommates, and **I'll **hire you! To Daidouji Designs! You could be my personal assistant, God knows I need one. The pay might not be amazing but you'll obviously get to live here rent-free, and –"

Sakura smiled sadly and placed a slender finger over her friend's lips. Tomoyo's eyes were downcast, resigned. She knew what Sakura would say before she even opened her mouth.

The great Daidouji Tomoyo was admitting defeat.

Sakura shifted her gaze to Eriol, who had been nodding earnestly in agreement to everything Tomoyo had said.

"I know that probably nothing I say can dissuade you at this point, Sakura-san, but I would like you to know that having you here has been a pleasure; and I will very much miss you when you are gone," he said, a graceful little smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He reached out to take one of her hands in his own.

"And if you ever want to come back, always know this – the door is forever open, any time of the day or night. You are our family, Sakura-san."

They smiled watery smiles at each other, and Sakura ducked her head after not too long, to let a tear drop onto her hair, veiled from sight.

…

After Sakura had gone to bed that night; and Tomoyo had checked to make sure she was sleeping ("Out like a light," she told her fiancé), Tomoyo was stalking around the master bedroom, ranting and shaking a helpless pillow about to help her make points.

"She's flipped! I mean it, she's really lost it this time! What the hell does she think she's doing? She's in love with Syaoran-kun! _Why _can't she just _see _that?"

She sat down heavily on the end of the bed, having exhausted herself by going on in a similar vein for almost an hour. Eriol laid his novel down on top of the covers and crawled forward to kiss the bare skin of her shoulder.

"I know," he said. "But I feel like we have to let her make these mistakes. She'll come to her senses. There are still four weeks left until D-Day. Don't give up on either of them, not yet."

Tomoyo leaned her head back until it was resting on his shoulder and she was looking straight up into his face.

"Have you noticed she hasn't even _mentioned _Syaoran-kun in relation to all this?" she asked, voice bitter. "She hasn't said what she's planning to tell him, _how _she's planning to tell him it, _when _she plans to tell him – nothing! It's like she's decided to forget she has a husband!"

She sighed. "This has to be torturing him, and I know I'm supposed to be on Sakura-chan's side, and I love her, of course I do, but this time – this time she's wrong. I can't even begin to defend her. I'm not trying to say she has to love him, I'm saying she hasn't even done the decent thing and given him a straight answer. He's still hanging on in hope he'll come home one day and she'll be waiting to greet him with a kiss, tell him the whole thing was some stupid misunderstanding or ridiculous freak-out on her part and say she loves him, too - I just know it!"


	16. The Bar Called Life, pt 2

**For some really stupid, really annoying reason, this site continues to not allow me to post chapters in their entirety – IT KEEPS CUTTING THE ENDS OFF! **

**So here's the end of chapter 15 – eyeroll -**

She slumped against her fiancé, confusion and frustration finally draining out of her to leave her mentally and physically numb. Eriol stroked her hair.

"Well," he said lightly, "if Sakura-san won't tell him, maybe we should."

Maybe Eriol's tone was deceptively throw-away, but Tomoyo was not fooled for even a second – there was something lurking in that sentence. She sat bolt upright and turned to face him.

"What are you saying?" she asked breathlessly.

"I'm saying I have a plan."


	17. i'm sick of young love

notes: I bet you guys are surprised, huh

**notes: **I bet you guys are surprised, huh? Never think you know how things are going to turn out.

I'm a different girl now to who I was – I started Butterflies when I was thirteen years old, and I'm seventeen now. I've written a big body of work off this site – moved through several serious fandoms, and ended up in real-person fic. I never forgot about this fic, no matter how it must have looked. I promise you that.

I can't remember where I was going with the previous chapter titles – I know it was meant to make a whole joke when put together, but I lost the notes pertaining to that. That's an indication, I guess – we're all older now and we've forgotten things, but I can remember where my heart was when I started this, and the ending is as fresh in my head as the day I imagined it. It may not be perfect, but if you'd like to come with me on this last journey together, I'd be delighted to have you.

Let's hold hands, take one more for the road.

**butterflies: in spring**

**take sixteen: i'm sick of young love**

Eriol calls Syaoran in the morning when Sakura is in the shower. (She doesn't sing, hasn't for a long time, but Tomoyo knows they are so close, and she will again, and so she hums as she folds some of her own clothes into a suitcase for Sakura, before she can say, hushed, _don't be silly, Tomoyo-chan, I couldn't -_).

Eriol cups his hand over the receiver like he is in a spy movie and says to Syaoran, "hold on, okay? An hour, I think, tops. We're bringing her back!"

He wraps his finger around the phonecord and rocks on his feet, almost buzzing happily. Okay okay, he's a sucker for Syaoran and an even bigger sucker for true love; but he can't help it. Tomoyo is – unironically! – the light of his little life, and it kind of hurts him to think about Sakura and Syaoran stumbling around in the dark. (Whenever he starts in on this, ever so sincerely, Tomoyo laughs softly and flattens the hair that sticks up over his left ear.)

Tomoyo feels kind of numb to it when Sakura comes down to breakfast looking pinched and miserable. She can't really feel pity or sadness when she and Eriol are concocting this brilliant plan and Sakura will be smiling not long from now; it's hard enough not to pull Sakura up from her seat and dance a leisurely waltz to future happiness.

She puts a plate of pancakes in front of Sakura with an encouraging little smile.

"For my own good, right?" she says, and sighs a little bit. Tomoyo's pancakes are the best, but today she feels like she'll throw up anything she puts in her stomach. She wants to say, _Tomoyo-chan, I'm scared_, but she figures her best friend knows that anyway.

"For your own good," Tomoyo agrees, and leans across to press a feathery kiss against Sakura's temple.

…

Sakura steels herself and climbs into the car after breakfast. She's wrapped in an inordinate amount of layers for the weather, Tomoyo figures maybe she feels like she can protect herself from Syaoran as a result, from his sadness and his disappointment and his love.

"You're coping well," Tomoyo says, wedged in the back seat with her (not from lack of space, but for need of closeness) and pats the back of Sakura's icy hand, once. Sakura nods stiffly in return.

If Syaoran had ears like a fox, they'd be pricking up as he hears a car pull up outside. It takes all he has to stay sitting at the table, to not get up and run to her and fold her in his arms and breathe in the scent of her hair and tell her he loves her and they can work it out and she can't, she just can't leave him again.

The car doors slam and he can hear her talking – not laughing, and not talking loudly, and kind of, kind of flat and sad, but it's still her – and his hands clench. He breathes deeply, and closes his eyes, and lies in wait.

…

"And you're sure he's not here," Sakura says, with her hand poised to push the front door open.

"He gave me the key so we could let ourselves in, didn't he?" Eriol says easily, and Sakura nods, reassured.

"Alright," she says.

"You go on in," Eriol says. "Tomoyo and I will follow, I just need to check the car out a bit first – I don't like the sound she was making going over that hill."

…

Even the door hinges feel familiar. The air inside the house smells the way she remembers – warm and kind of citrusy. It's all stiller than she remembers, though – the air is slightly stagnant, and dust motes rise and fall in the sunlight. It feels like a disused house, unloved and abandoned.

She just stands in the hall for a second, remembering the mornings here – blackest coffee and Syaoran's bedhead – and the evenings, curled in a comforter on the couch. She even laughs, once, to herself.

She has to let it go.

She ventures into the kitchen, figuring she'll brew coffee for Eriol, Tomoyo and herself – and stops dead when she sees him at the kitchen table.

"W-what are you doing here?" she asks, voice barely more than a whisper. She's clenching the doorframe with bloodless knuckles, it feels as though her knees are ready to give out. Nobody in Sakura's life has ever made her feel the way Syaoran makes her feel – uncertain, and small, and scared, and like she is being dangled over the precipice of something deep that she doesn't understand.

"Sakura-" he says, standing with his palms raised in front of him ,trying to make himself look vulnerable. "Wait –"

"No, you wait!" Sakura says. "You listen to me! I am tired of being manipulated, and and – conned, and lied to! I don't know what you thought you were going to accomplish by this, but at least we'll get one thing out of the way!"

"Sakura –" he tries again, chancing a step towards her.

"I want the divorce," she says, and closes her eyes against the wave of sickness she feels, and she's not too proud to admit that the sickness is shame at what she is doing to him. "I can't do this."

"Sakura –" Syaoran says, again, and damn it, her name isn't his to say that way. "Sakura, please, at least – at least tell me why."

His voice is catching and stumbling. Sakura grapples blindly for a chair and sits down heavily.

"I can't do this," she repeats. "I don't – we can't –"

"We can work it out!" Syaoran says, desperately, taking one of her hands in his. "I'll do anything."

"There's nothing to work out," she says. "I'm sorry."

…

Eriol and Tomoyo finish up Sakura's packing while she sits in the car. When they come back outside, and Eriol settles into the driver's seat, there is a silence for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry," Eriol apologises. "I really am, Sakura-san. It was my idea, I just thought –"

"It's okay," Sakura says wearily, and mostly, it is. She doesn't blame anyone for trying.

She lays her head against Tomoyo's shoulder, and falls asleep.

…

Sakura fumbles the cereal box in her kitchen in her new apartment that night, closes her eyes as little rice puffs bounce off the lip of the bowl and land on the floor. Lucky Charms were always his favourites.

She has her cereal with water because she hasn't got any milk, and stubs her toe on the foot of a kitchen chair. She doesn't cry, just closes her eyes and bites her lip and goes on.

The news that night was a special on starving orphans in Africa. The children had eyes like ghosts were living in their heads and limbs like needles; the news reporter looked straight into Sakura's eyes. That was the only reason she cried, tears causing ripples in the water as a plane flew overhead.

**notes:** Hold my hand over my heart when I say I'll finish this. Trust me.


End file.
